


No lights in the Theater, only Stars

by jjabajas



Category: AKB48 & Related Fandoms, Nogizaka46 (Band), SKE48
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Paparazzi, Social Media, Theater AU, theater kids are the craziest people around don't you ever forget that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23249917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjabajas/pseuds/jjabajas
Summary: “Why am I doing a photo op when I’m on hiatus?”“Because we’ve gotta get the narrative back, honey,” Her mom shrugged like it was obvious. And to her, it probably was. “We’ll get the counter-narrative spinning with a few well-timed pics of the two of you—”“Two of who?”“You and that Miona girl.”“I’m sorry, what?”“Mentorship. Instead of her replacing you, it’s the two of you working hand in hand to make her the next best thing in the theater.” The smile that graced her mother’s face was that of a mastermind knowing they were only steps away from sure victory. “Not the best thing, the next best.”“All of that… from a picture.”—Jurina’s at the top of the game, Miona’s a rising star. Normally, they would’ve never crossed paths, but a hiatus can change everything.Being a theater girl means doing whatever it takes to make it to the top.Being a star means knowing how to stay there.
Relationships: Hori Miona/Matsui Jurina
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**_CHAPTER 1 - -_ **

They weren’t even trying to keep their voices down.

“Except she’s not a child anymore. Those excuses barely worked back then, and they sure as hell aren’t going to work now.”

“Her health is not an excuse!” How long could she pretend to be going to the bathroom, she wondered. Would they even care where she was? “Look, she’s not well—”

“I understand that, but we’ve given her as much time as we can.”

“So what do you want her to do? Go out on stage half-dead?”

“We can’t keep waiting—”

“Fine! Then find somebody else!” Her mom’s strategy in every one of these meetings seemed to be: try to get her daughter fired. One of these days it just might work, too. “That’s right, you can’t, because she’s the best performer this program’s ever seen! Eleven years my baby’s been at the top and she’s earned it! If you think any one of those little girls you picked up off the street can do what she can—do it! Make them the star and see what happens!”

Clink.

The vending machine spit out a can of overpriced seltzer. She watched as it settled at the bottom of the open tray, waiting to be picked up.

What _would_ happen if they replaced her? Not just temporarily like they’d done for the shows she’d had to miss. But permanently.

What if it wasn’t her name at the top of the cast list anymore?

She picked up the seltzer and threw it in the trash can. And threw out that train of thought right with it, too.

Her mother was right. You can’t replace a star.

\--

Two weeks.

That’s how long she’d been on hiatus this time. That’s how long her understudy had been forced to take her place in rehearsals for their nightly production. It wasn’t Nao this time and that had surprised her. Last year when her hiatus had been more sudden and more concerning, they’d bumped up her longtime friend and castmate to take her spot.

Nao was good. Really good. And she’d made that role her own in a way that Jurina never would’ve. And when Jurina had come back after that summer away, she’d thanked her. Thanked her and then taken her spot right back.

This time it wasn’t Nao.

“Her name’s Hinano. One of the new girls this year.” That was her mom, somehow always knowing what she was thinking.

The two of them were standing on the VIP balcony overlooking the main stage. This was where her mom usually sat when she came to watch her shows.

“I thought he was giving them the noon show.”

“Well,” Her mom’s lips usually pursed like this when she talked about management’s choices. Like she could do so much better if she was the one in that basement office instead. “Apparently some of them are developing way ahead of the rest. They’re trying them out in the pre-season show tonight to see how the real audience likes them.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

She’d heard this story before. Promising young talent handpicked by management and given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The old sink-or-swim.

And eleven years later, guess who was the only one still afloat?

“They think she can handle it. But they said the same thing about that other girl last year too, remember?” Her mom scoffed. “Tried to put her in after you sold out every show that winter like no one would notice.” Another scoff, more self-satisfied than the last. “We’ll see.”

“Places!” The call came from down on stage where all the focus was on the main cast getting ready to run through their lines. 

The girl in front—this Hinano—nodded once at the director, then quickly set her face to match the scene. The call for action came next and Nao came swinging up to the girl with the kind of too raw, too emotional energy her fans loved to see. Hinano stood her ground and played her part.

Well. She wasn’t bad.

\--

The theater ran two shows in a single three-month season.

The noon show, on every day of the week except Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And the main show at night, on every day of the week except Fridays.

In between seasons, there were the bi-weekly pre-season shows that were basically reruns of some of their more popular works staffed by mostly the undergirls. It was something to tide their diehard fans over till the season started. And to give some of their girls some much needed experience.

Each season kicked off with a blockbuster presentation of the main show, complete with an actual red carpet, exclusive audience interactions, and a full-on media extravaganza. This supercharged show lasted until the noon show premiered two weeks later—with considerable less fanfare—to signal the start of the regular season. These regular shows were where the tinkering usually took place. Understudies getting their time to shine, performers changing their lines to play with the crowd, marquee stars taking time off to do outside engagements since they’d already proved their mettle in the season premiere.

It wasn’t always that way, though. That infamous winter season that Jurina had performed in every show for two months in a row had made the news. Because stars like her weren’t expected to still be working so hard. But it had paid off. She’d sold-out every single one of those shows before management had stepped in with their ‘brilliant’ idea to ride the media wave that she’d generated. They’d swapped Jurina out for one of the new girls who just… hadn’t been ready for that kind of spotlight.

She’d choked. And there went that sold-out show record.

Jurina’s mother had never let management forget that terrible decision.

The girl was fired the very next season.

\--

A hundred million dollars.

That’s how much the theater was on track to lose if her hiatus lasted as long as it did last summer. At least, that’s what this late night news host on TV was saying.

“I know, I know, that sounds like a lot,” the host said in response to the shocked gasp from his studio audience. “But that’s practically lunch money to AKS. They’ve got a show running in every city, every theater, every school, every bathroom in the country.” He didn’t break character even as the audience laughed around him. “My son came into my room last night, ‘Daddy, daddy, there’s a monster in my closet.’ And I took his scared little hands and told him, ‘No son, that’s just the AKS theater’s nightly rendition of Monsters’ Inc.’” Howls and whistles and eager applause from the crowd. They loved his jokes. He finally smiled to let them know he was done with his bit. “They’re everywhere. Literally everywhere.”

Jurina considered changing the channel, but she kept it on. Her mom wasn’t home right now, so.

“Anyways, back to the hundred million dollars. Money. That’s how AKS is quantifying the hiatus of one of their biggest stars. That’s what they’re putting out in the news right now for everyone to gasp and laugh and ridicule their performers for.” He slipped his hands into his pockets and his face lost all traces of humour. “Because if they don’t tell you that they’re overworking their top talent to within an inch of their lives and paying off doctors and therapists to keep the damage that they’re doing to these young girls a secret, then all you’re going to see is the money.” He paused and the audience was dead silent around him. Nothing to laugh about there. “And you won’t get it. And it’ll just keep happening again and again and again.”

Jurina’s throat tightened. Her hand on the remote felt sweatier now.

“So. We’re not going to talk about them losing money.” He stepped back and waved offstage. “Instead, my staff and I have compiled a list of dream vacation destinations for your friendly neighbourhood overworked million-dollar theater performer.” Two of his staff came rushing on, pushing a covered whiteboard to stand right behind him. One of them handed him a sun hat, a lei and a Hawaiian shirt to the enjoyment of the audience. “I bet you’ll never guess what’s first place.”

Jurina found herself laughing along too.

\--

**Ruu (6:49 am):** they get in even before we do, it’s crazy

**Ruu (6:50 am):** kano doesn’t think they even went home. they stayed back for extra lessons last night too :o

**Ruu (6:50 am):** do they even sleep

Those were just a few of the texts that Jurina woke up to.

She didn’t explicitly ask her castmates to spy on the new additions to their company, but she’d done nothing to deter the flow of information from those closest to her. All she’d said was how much she’d missed practicing with them, and oh, she’d heard there were some new girls on the main stage.

**Ruu (7:37 am):** one of them tried to sit in your chair, but nao made her cry and move so it’s all good now

She shook her head at that one.

**Jurina (7:39 am):** hazing is illegal you know

**Ruu (7:40 am):** lol since when?

**Ruu (7:40 am):** or did you call it something different when you guys locked us in the bathroom that one night?

**Jurina (7:42 am):** … you have no proof

At around lunchtime, Jurina found herself sitting on her couch, scrolling through her social media. She didn’t like to search her name, but she’d found herself reading more and more theater articles since her hiatus had started. Most of them just so happened to be about her. The comments sections were entertaining to say the least.

She bit into her peeled apple slice and nodded as she read through one fan’s impassioned defense of her work ethic.

She gave it a thumbs up.

She reached the end of the comments and was just about to close the tab when a related article on the side caught her eye. It was trending at the top of the Entertainment section.

‘ _Breakout ‘Under Construction’ actress cast in theater debut_ ’

The thumbnail was a picture of a young actress spliced next to the marquee sign of a particular AKS theater. Her theater.

She clicked on the article without hesitation.

That was the first time she saw the name Miona Hori.

\--

Her mother was right. You can’t replace a star.

Well.

You can’t replace a star, but you can release an article every other day with a ‘source’ claiming that the star is a lazy, self-centered brat with a superiority complex the size of the sun.

AKS’ management had no problem doing that, it seemed.

And Jurina was starting to wonder if her mother hadn’t managed to do something even worse than getting her fired. Because this felt worse. Not that she’d ever been fired before, but she could imagine.

After the seventh such article came out, Jurina stopped reading the comments altogether.

\--

“Okay, let’s take it from the guard’s entrance.” The director’s voice sounded weary. It was late, very late, and they’d been rehearsing since daybreak. “Whenever you’re ready, Hinano.”

The young girl nodded and quickly slipped on her game face. She didn’t look tired at all.

Jurina was sitting in her mom’s balcony seat, alone today.

She’d wanted to get out of the house and she knew that she could hide out at the theater so long as she stayed out of the way of the production below.

She missed being out on stage.

“So, I heard you hate us and would rather eat fire than set foot in this theater ever again.”

“Shouldn’t you be running lines?” Jurina rolled her eyes when Ruuchan came around to sit in the seat next to hers.

“I would, but my usual partner is out.”

“I’ve been out for three weeks now,” Jurina pointed out, but Ruu just shrugged. “Are you telling me you haven’t been practicing for three weeks?”

“Of course not,” she scoffed. “They’d kick me out long before it could ever get that bad.”

“You have your script?”

“Right here.”

Ruu handed over the well-worn stack of papers and Jurina perused them with all the grace of someone pretending not to be interested in something. But she was too obvious.

“Most of it’s the same except for the start of Act III.” Jurina dutifully skipped ahead to the mentioned section.

“They took out the fight,” she realized.

“She’s still struggling with the sword stuff.” Ruu leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. “You should have seen her the day they announced it, she wouldn’t stop crying.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“I don’t know, does it?” Ruu leaned back with a smirk on her face. She knew Jurina wouldn’t answer her, but she never needed one anyway. She knew how the older girl worked almost better than her own mother did.

Jurina changed topics, instead.

“I heard there’s a new actress coming down for the noon show.”

And that got a reaction.

“Oh my god!” The way Ruu’s face lit up felt like she’d unwittingly opened Pandora’s box. She grabbed Jurina’s arm and shook it so hard their chairs squeaked. “Speaking of, you know the real reason they’re bringing in someone new? They’re kicking out the new kids,” she whisper-screamed.

And Jurina’s eyes widened.

“They’re doing what?”

“They were so bad, oh my god,” Ruu covered her face to try and hide how much she was enjoying this. And maybe to keep her voice down, but Jurina had a feeling she didn’t care much if anyone overheard her. “Management put the squeeze on them last week—extra practices, review sessions three times a day, even hired a new dance coach, but nothing. They did their last review on Friday in front of everyone and they choked so bad.”

“So what? They’re getting switched out?”

“They’re getting fired. All of them. Well, except Hinano, of course.”

Wait, what?

“Hold on, what about the noon show?”

“They’re backfilling with the unders. The new kids didn’t even last a full season.” And it should disturb her how happy her friend looked at this news. How happy she was starting to feel. Vindicated almost.

“What about—”

The director suddenly clapped from down below, grabbing the attention of all the actors.

“Ok! Good! Let’s jump ahead to the beach scene! Props and everything, so we can do the marking too!”

Ruu was already halfway out of her seat. “That’s my cue.”

But Jurina still had a million and one questions left to ask her. “You can’t just—”

Ruu leaned in and silenced her with a short, teasing kiss.

Of course she did.

Ruu liked to do that ever since that one night they’d stayed back late practicing together after most everyone had left. A tired Jurina had stupidly admitted that she’d thought the younger performer was cute when she first joined the company. Sure, she’d then gone on to state how there could be nothing between them since dating a castmate was literally the dumbest thing you could ever do. Ruu didn’t care about that part. What she did care about was that she now had this unspoken leverage over the theater star.

Sneaking short kisses when no one was looking and leaving before Jurina could say anything was now her biggest weapon. One that she wielded mercilessly.

“Watch my form, will you?” And with that, Ruu was gone.

Of course.

One had to be absolutely ruthless to be in this profession after all.

\--

Jurina did watch Ruu’s form. A little rough with the blocking, but she knew how to play off the others well enough. She’d learn.

Practice ended around 3 am and by that time, Jurina was a sack of tired bones in her seat, contemplating the merits of going home at all.

She technically shouldn’t be hanging around so much if she was on hiatus. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught wind of how she was spending her days.

But she also didn’t want to just go home and do… what? Sleep, eat, sleep, watch TV, sleep?

Rinse and repeat?

Thankfully, Ruu heard her silent prayers.

**Ruu (2:57 am):** come to 1F if you’re still around

**Ruu (2:57 am):** basement’s pretty empty so kano ordered pizza

**Ruu (2:58 am):** no pineapples tho

So that was where Jurina was dragging her body to now.

Down in the bowels of the theater where the hallways were narrow, where the equipment and costumes had far more rights to the space than any of the performers did. Where countless girls came to cry and vent and rage, because they knew that no one else would hear them. The practice rooms down here were more familiar than her own bedroom.

So she shouldn’t have been surprised to see lights on in one of the dance rooms.

It wasn’t 1F, but she stopped anyway, more curious than concerned. 1C.

And that was the first time she saw Miona Hori.

\--

“I told you she was still here.” Ruu’s attempt at a whisper welcomed her as she entered practice room 1F.

The other girls were more polite once they realized who’d just walked in. They rushed to their feet and greeted her with hands clasped in front of them, nervous glances cast in the direction of their half-empty pizza box.

“Hi. Ruu told me you guys could use some help practicing.”

Jurina saw Ruu rolling her eyes, but the younger girl wisely stayed quiet. Sure, she had a big mouth, but she was smart enough to not completely ruin Jurina’s reputation in front of the other girls.

“Oh wow, really? I mean, you don’t have to,” Kano gushed, trying to not sound too eager. “It’s so late already a-and you’re supposed to be resting, right?”

The other girls nodded vigorously, muttering their agreement.

She just waved them off. “I’m here and you’re here, so… Where do we start?”

\--

At 5:01 am, Jurina finally stepped out of practice room 1F.

She waved to the last of the girls slinking off down the hallway, homeward bound. She and Ruu were the last ones to leave and so had the wonderful task of locking up.

She watched with a fond smile as Ruu tried in vain to slip the key into the doorknob. She was swaying on her feet, seconds away from nodding off. Jurina gently took the keys and did it herself.

With an arm supporting the tired girl, Jurina lead them towards the elevators.

“You tell your mom that you’re staying over?”

Ruu nodded lazily against her shoulder. “She says I can stay whenever, but yeah. I texted her.”

“She trusts me that much?”

“Probably not. Pretty sure she thinks I’m trying to sleep my way to the top.”

Jurina shook her head, more than used to Ruu’s antics. “And she’s okay with that?”

“Hey, you gotta do…” A giant yawn forced her to pause mid-speech. “… what you gotta do.”

“Well, you should tell your mom that—”

They’d reached room 1C. And what a coincidence.

Just as they were passing, the door flew open to let out the lone occupant who was also heading home for the night. The girl was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, the unofficial uniform of the overworked theater girl. She pushed up her glasses to see who else could possibly still be around this late as well.

“Oh, hi.” Her voice was ridiculously soft. Or maybe she was just tired. “I thought everyone had left.”

“I think we’re the last ones.” Jurina tried to match her decibel-level because that seemed like the right thing to do. Belatedly, she realized that Ruu had tightened the arm that was thrown around her waist. In the moment, however, she was curious. “Getting some extra practice in?”

“Yeah. I definitely need it,” she chuckled, self-deprecatingly.

“Don’t worry, if you’re putting the work in, you’ll be better before you know it.”

“That’s the hope.” She nodded, then turned and clumsily locked the practice room. Jurina didn’t know why she stayed and waited, but she did. The girl finally turned back and joined them in their walk towards the elevators.

Jurina hit the up button and adjusted Ruu so she had a better grip on the tired girl. She noticed how quiet she was being all of a sudden, but figured it was just the fatigue setting in.

The new girl beside them didn’t comment on their embrace.

“Do you have a ride picking you up?” Jurina couldn’t help but ask in the silence that followed.

“Me? Yeah, my manager is waiting for me.”

“Good. Never take any chances going home. Either go home in a group or have someone you trust pick you up. Sometimes literally.” Jurina playfully nodded in Ruu’s direction, jostling her in her arms and ignoring the pout on her face.

“Thanks,” the girl smiled.

The elevator doors opened and they all stepped into the tiny space. As the doors closed, the girl angled herself towards them and quietly admitted, “I’m new, so I don’t really know how things work around here yet… Today was my first day.”

“And the teachers let you stay this late?”

“Not really…” The girl avoided eye contact. “I was only supposed to observe today. Practice officially starts tomorrow. I just…”

Wanted to get a head start? Wanted to be as prepared as she possibly could? Wanted to put in the work even when no one was looking, for no one else but herself, so she could truly say she was the best?

But she didn’t say any of that. She didn’t have to.

Jurina felt an unreasonable rush of affinity for a girl she hadn’t even been really introduced to. She had to change that.

“Jurina.” She stuck out her left hand, since the right was still supporting a curiously-silent Ruu.

“Miona,” came the girl’s response and hand.

And that was the first time she touched Miona Hori.

And that was her first mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

**_CHAPTER 2 - -_ **

Her second mistake was not waiting until her mother had left for work before leaving her room in the morning.

In her defense, she’d desperately needed to pee.

And then she’d flushed and then her mom had heard and then by the time she’d dried her hands and opened the door, her mom was waiting for her at the top of the stairs.

“What time did you get in?” No good morning, of course.

“Late. I helped some of the girls practice.”

“That’s not your job, you know.”

“I know.”

“Your job right now is to rest. Rest and rest well so that you can hurry up and get back to your real job. All this sneaking off to the theater—”

“I’m not sneaking anywhere, I told you where I was.” She didn’t want her first conversation in the morning to be her arguing with her mom, but that wasn’t always a choice she had.

“Do you know what they’re saying about you out there? And that’s not even the worst of it, do you know the stories Paul and I’ve been killing lately?”

Jurina rolled her eyes. There was no talking down her mother once she got herself worked up. It was best to ride it out, play into the scene until she could disappear off stage left. “You know I don’t read the tabloids.”

“It’s not _just_ the tabloids anymore, Jurina,” she shot back. “It’s the trades that everyone in town sees first thing in the morning. It’s the think pieces that want to tear into that godawful company but can’t, so they’re tearing into you instead. And AKS is doing nothing to stop it. Absolutely nothing.” Her mother sounded exhausted, which made her realize that she wasn’t the only one having late nights these days. Neither of them had been home. Neither of them had been resting. “They’ve thrown my baby girl out to the wolves.”

“I’ll be fine.” She always was.

Her mother sighed and nodded, looking away for a moment to collect herself. When she looked back, the armour was back up, ready to go into battle for another day.

“There should be some news coming out today, but you don’t have to worry about it. Stay off your account if you have to, do not respond to anything—I mean it.”

“Got it.”

“K. Love you, baby.” A kiss on the head and her mother was gone. A few seconds later, she heard the front door close downstairs. She was finally alone.

Well, not entirely alone.

“She’s really intense…” Ruu’s hesitant voice came from behind her bedroom door.

Jurina sighed and opened the door. There the younger girl stood, obviously having eavesdropped during the entire conversation.

“Theater girls are tough. Theater moms are tougher.”

“My mom’s not like that.”

“Really?” Jurina scoffed. “She lets you sleep over at the house of a senior who she thinks is taking advantage of you.”

“Actually, she thinks _I’m_ taking advantage of _you_.”

“Whatever. She’s pimping you out. Normal moms don’t do that.”

Ruu pouted, but she didn’t have a comeback after that.

Jurina shuffled downstairs and headed to the kitchen to start making breakfast. Ruu followed after her, not offering any help in the slightest. She knew better by now.

“I’m thinking of getting a manager,” Ruu admitted a few moments later.

That stopped Jurina in her tracks, hand holding the frying pan mid omelet-flip. She quickly returned the pan to the stove and lowered the heat.

“Thinking, as in…”

“As in… my mom’s great and all, but… I want to do more, you know?”

“Okay,” Jurina nodded because she could follow this train of thought now. Now that it wasn’t some out-of-the-blue announcement, and seemed to be a logical conclusion Ruu had come to based on her own career goals. “Like what? What are you looking at?”

“I don’t know, but like… The noon show, for one. My mom wouldn’t let me go for it, but if I had a manager…”

Wait, no. Actually, that didn’t make much sense. She furrowed her brow and pointed out, “But you did the noon show right when you joined. We all did.”

“Not like Miona’s doing right now,” Ruu muttered.

Miona.

The girl they’d met last night. The girl who was having her theater debut in a theater that she didn’t even belong to. The girl who had probably ruffled more than a few feathers by swooping in and taking a role that many of the undergirls had been vying for. Lead in the noon show.

But it was still just the noon show. Not exactly the pinnacle of their career.

“I feel like I’m missing something here,” Jurina finally admitted.

“Ugh! Why do you have to be on hiatus?” Ruu dramatically dropped her head on the table, not caring at all for the loud clunk it caused.

And there Ruu stayed until Jurina had fully finished cooking and plated both their omelets.

She carefully drew a ketchup smiley face on Ruu’s meal before handing it over to the younger girl.

“Okay, tell me about Miona.”

\--

They didn’t talk about it over breakfast. It wasn’t until they were both seated on the couch watching a rerun of last night’s late night show that Ruu finally spilled the beans.

“So, right before they fired the new girls,” she started, sipping on her hot cocoa like the true child she was as she delivered the news. “We knew there was trouble with the noon show, but we figured they’d just grow out of it and management would just give them time to get better. Like they did with us, you know.” One long sip that looked downright therapeutic. “Except that didn’t happen.”

“Management fired them.” She still couldn’t believe it. She’d be nowhere near the performer she was today if she hadn’t had those years to grow and develop her craft. How could management expect the new girls to be perfect right off the bat?

“It started a few days after you left, actually… They pushed Hinano to the main show, left the other girls out to rot.”

And now it was all starting to make sense. “You think they did it because of me?”

Ruu shrugged, but didn’t hold back. “Pretty convenient that the second the company’s biggest star leaves, suddenly everyone has to be perfect or they get cut.”

And then, she remembered those words her mother had yelled in that basement office last week. How she’d told the big wigs to ‘find someone else’.

Well, it looked like they’d definitely been trying. And had been getting frustrated when their internal search had turned up empty. So then they looked outside…

“So they got Miona.”

A fresh-faced, hard-working young actress who was more than eager to try her hand in the theater.

“There was an unofficial audition for it. The director kept saying that they needed someone to show these new kids what to do. Said that this season would be a career-changer for sure for whoever got the lead. I knew something was up… so I asked my mom to let me try for it but she said no...” Ruu huffed out a frustrated breath, but pressed on. “And then we were staying late one night and…”

“What? What was it?”

And then the bomb dropped. “We heard them saying that they might switch the shows around. For a few weeks if they found someone good.”

Ruu glanced up over the lip of her mug at Jurina, watching for how she’d react. But she didn’t know how to react.

Angry? That seemed like a good bet. Mostly numb, though.

Her mother was right. You can’t replace a star.

So instead, they were going to replace her whole show.

“They’re going to… switch the shows?”

“If they find somebody,” Ruu rushed to qualify. “It might not work out with Miona, either. I wanted to tell you, but you were still—”

“They’re going to switch out my show—the show that always sells out, that my fans fly in from other countries, other continents, to come see—for what? The noon show? For a practice show?” Okay, so she was angry. Very, very angry. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

And just then, her phone buzzed on the table in front of them, but she ignored it. Whatever it was, it could wait.

Jurina was on a roll. “Was this whole Hinano thing just a front, then? Of course they wouldn’t let a girl that green take over the most important role in the show just like that. She’s good, but not main stage good. Does she even know that they’re doing this?”

And then the most terrible thought of all hit her. And she just had to ask, she had to know.

“And what would’ve happened if I came back last week like planned? Would I be down in that stupid theater practicing my ass off just to be switched out to perform on some second-rate stage?”

At the back of her mind, she realized she was fuming—spilling her thoughts out faster than she could censor them. Crossing unspoken lines she’d been careful to not cross in her entire career. At the front of her mind, however, was nothing but rage.

But Ruu, to her credit, didn’t show any outward reactions to her meltdown. Instead, she said the one thing that made it all worse.

“Maybe. Some of us think… we think AKS wants you out.”

Her phone buzzed again, sounding loud and angry in the tense silence.

Almost in a daze, Jurina picked it up, somehow already knowing what she would see.

And there it was.

The announcement of a limited-run of the theater’s noon show on the main stage. Miona’s face front and center.

You can’t replace a star, but her company was sure as hell going to try.

\--

She should have taken her mother’s advice. She should’ve stayed off her account.

She should’ve stayed off the whole Internet.

_‘Jurina out, Miona in’_

_‘Rising Nogi star takes over theater amid current star’s hiatus’_

_‘AKS response to star’s hiatus? No problem’_

_‘New show to herald arrival of new theater star’_

_‘Miona up for the challenge; Sources say rising star more than ready for theater debut’_

_‘Is this how the Jurina era ends?’_

After Ruu had left her house with promises to talk later that night, Jurina had lasted all of three minutes before she’d turned to the interwebs.

The articles were coming in fast, hot on the heels of the theater’s announcement.

By the time she’d read one, three more had popped up to add on to the media barrage.

The reporters were having a field day—AKS had never done something so brazen, so apparently damaging to one of their own, before. It was unprecedented.

It was overwhelming.

It was too much.

Jurina’s phone rang in her limp hands. When she looked down and could only see a blur, she realized she was crying. For how long, she had no idea.

She shakily answered the call.

“Mom…”

“I’m going to need you to turn off your phone, sweetheart.” Of course she knew.

“You said I had nothing to worry about,” she hiccupped. “They took my show...”

“We’re handling it. Paul and I are—we’re working on it—”

“My show, mom!”

“I know, honey. I know,” her mom sounded close to tears, too.

“They just… I can’t go back to this. I can’t. It’s just so—so fucking embarrassing!”

“Trust me. It’s nothing but a phase. By the time you’re ready to return—”

“I can’t!” Jurina curled in on herself, barely knowing what she was saying, feeling like a rug had been yanked from underneath her and no one cared that she was about to hit the ground. Her voice was pitchy and broken and her only saving grace was that no one was here to see her completely break down. She was alone. “I can’t.” She was alone. “I can’t.” She was alone. “I can’t—”

“No! Honey, no, you listen to me!” Her mom’s voice broke through her mantra. Hard and strong and begging to be heard, to be believed. “Nothing they do will ever take away from who you are. You are the best performer to ever set foot on that stage. Your fans know it and the critics know it and the audience sees it every time you perform. _You are the best they’ve ever had, Jurina._ You are their brightest star.”

And she wanted to believe it. Her mom knew her the best and if that’s what she could see, then…

Why couldn’t she see that, too?

“No one will ever replace you. I’ll make sure of it.” Her mother’s words rang out and reverberated in her thoughts. With all the confidence of someone who’d been in this industry, who’d been on top for eleven years. “Okay, honey?”

“…Okay.”

\--

And yes, after all, she was supposed to be resting.

So she did just that.

She turned off her phone, as per her mother’s request, and didn’t turn it back on for the next week. Complete radio silence.

The only news she got of what was happening in the industry was from tidbits her mom would share over dinner—oh yeah, they were spending more time together, too. It was nice. Calming, at least on her end that was blissfully shrouded in ignorance.

Her late night TV watching sometimes threatened to disrupt her self-imposed bubble, but she’d gotten pretty good at channel-switching when she sensed the topic of conversation was veering too close to the dark side.

She also read. A lot.

And she made an effort to get outside at least once a day—heavily disguised, of course. She wanted to do everything she could to improve her health. Everything that would help her get back on stage sooner rather than later. And to the question of which stage she’d be returning to? She’d let her mother and manager answer that one.

As it turned out, her mother and manager were answering a lot of questions.

Even before she could ask them.

“Paul’s been working some of the other managers, got a few numbers—he thinks he can get you in for a photo op by the end of the week. Low key, none of the big sites, but it’ll get back to them for sure.” Her mom liked to talk like Jurina was in on any of the half-dozen meetings she had every day. Like she knew what on Earth she was talking about.

Usually, she’d just nod and work it out from the context, but this one was too out-of-the-blue to make any sense to the reclusive girl.

“Photo op,” she repeated. Hoping that her mom would take the hint. She didn’t.

“Staged, of course. We’ll frame it like one of the theater girls just happened upon you two and snapped a few pics, leaked it to the press, you know. Won’t take too long.”

Jurina took a bite of her mashed potatoes and marveled at how dense it was. The potatoes. Her mom.

“Why am I doing a photo op when I’m on hiatus?”

“Because we’ve gotta get the narrative back, honey,” Her mom shrugged like it was obvious. And to her, it probably was. “We can’t do interviews or source leaks because that’d just be way too obvious at this point. So,” she pointed her fork at her daughter. “We’ll get the counter-narrative spinning with a few well-timed pics of the two of you—”

“Two of who?”

“You and that Miona girl.” The eye roll accompanying the name was to be expected at this point. But the statement as a whole wasn’t.

Jurina’s eyes widened and she dropped her forkful of beans back to her plate.

“I’m sorry, what? What narrative could you possibly get from a pic of the two of us together?”

“Mentorship. Instead of her replacing you, it’s the two of you working hand in hand to make her the next best thing in the theater.” The smile that graced her mother’s face was that of a mastermind knowing they were only steps away from sure victory. “Not _the_ best thing, the next best.”

“All of that… from a picture.”

“Several pictures.” But she frowned as she thought it through a bit more. “We might need to work on some poses, though.”

\--

And just so we’re keeping track:

The theater’s regular season lasts three months, with two shows running during that time.

The noon show, on every day of the week except Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And the main show at night, on every day of the week except Fridays.

In between seasons, there were the bi-weekly pre-season shows that were basically reruns of some of their more popular works staffed by mostly the undergirls.

Right now was the seemingly less stressful period known as pre-season. Deceptive.

\--

As they were still only in pre-season, there were only two shows put on in a week. One on Wednesday night and the other on Saturday at noon.

Which made Saturday night one of the perfect times to be at the theater if you were trying not to run into anyone. Anyone who’d already performed would be gone and the other girls would just wait to practice on Sunday instead.

So, it was with that thought in mind that Jurina’s mom and manager scheduled her photo op with Miona for 9 pm that Saturday.

Without her phone and Ruu’s insider updates, Jurina felt like she had no idea what to expect as she walked into the theater. All she had were instructions to go down to practice room 1C—ironic, really—and to just… wait. Miona would be there, they were to talk and look friendly enough and then, once the clock struck 9:20, they could leave.

Short and not at all as painful as she’d first imagined it to be. Just twenty minutes and she could go back to her cave.

She could do this.

There was nothing to worry about.

They were both professionals, this should be child’s play.

1C. For the second time in less than two weeks, she found herself standing outside this particular room. Through the glass in the door, she could see someone sitting against the wall. Waiting. Alright, time to put her game face on.

Places. And action.

Jurina pushed the door open and smiled at the other girl in the room.

“Hi. Miona, right?”

“Right,” the other girl nodded as she got to her feet. “We actually, uh, we met last week. In the elevator.”

“Oh, that was you?” Maybe she shouldn’t lay it on so thick. “Well, it’s good to officially meet you, then.”

Miona nodded, looking down at her feet to hide her nerves. It was plain to see in her body language, though. The hunched shoulders, the fidgeting hands. Was this really the girl that was supposed to replace her?

So Jurina kept talking because she was nothing if not really good at her job. “I’m assuming your manager told you the deal. We could run lines or maybe just sit and talk, whatever you want.” She was going to sell this and sell it hard. Their mystery photographer would be coming by in a few minutes, they couldn’t be such awkward turtles.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Okay, but… which one?

It took Miona a few seconds to realize that she’d given a non-answer. When she did, she shook her head, embarrassed at herself. “I mean lines, we can do lines—run lines, I mean. That sounds good.”

Was this a part of her act? Did it even matter? They only had about seventeen more minutes with each other anyways.

Miona hurried over to her bag and pulled out a mess of papers that only vaguely looked like a working script. From the writing she could see scratched all over every single page, Jurina briefly wondered if this was the girl’s homework instead. But then Miona handed her a small section and she could just make out the opening scene of the noon show. Under a mess of handwritten notes, it was there.

And so they were to act.

“Um, I’ll be Daphne, if that’s okay,” Miona requested.

“Sure.” It made sense that the other girl would want to practice her own role, even in a contrived situation like this. “I’ll take Luis and…” She flipped to the end of the scene. “Is Hector in this?”

“He’s in the scene right after.”

“Ok, so just Luis, then. Whenever you’re ready.”

They took up their positions standing opposite each other and a moment later, they were off in their own little manufactured world. Crafting a tale of a young newlywed, who’d just found out that her childhood love had come back for her too late, bemoaning a marriage to a man she didn’t love. It was dramatic and completely over-the-top and that’s how they played it.

And Miona… was good.

The scene ended with Daphne telling Luis that, if she had the chance, she’d marry him again in a flash, all the while knowing that her real love Hector was waiting for her at the beach.

“Our love is real,” Jurina echoed as Luis. And then, with one last embrace, she turned and exited the scene. She smiled to herself. That went well.

She casually walked back up to Miona, but was surprised to see the other girl biting her lip, face set in a concerned frown.

“Do you want to go again?” Jurina asked.

“No, I just…”

“What are you thinking?”

Miona huffed, folding her arms somewhat defensively. “How was I? Was I too showy, did I put enough emotion behind my last line, was it—”

Jurina put up her hands to try and stop the rush of words. “Okay, okay. One at a time.”

“I… This scene is the one I get the most feedback on. The director thinks that I’m not… that I don’t show enough? I’m not sure what that means…” Miona dropped her eyes again, shaking her head at herself.

Ah. Feedback. That explained all the writing on the script.

Jurina took a moment to read over some of the notes. She quickly found a particularly heavily highlighted line.

“Right here, when you tell Luis that you still love him?”

“Yeah. I’ve been running it over and over but I still don’t… What do you think? Honestly.”

Honestly.

Jurina had thought she’d been fine. But, she also knew what this really was. These were the nerves of a performer who didn’t have enough experience to be confident in her acting even in the face of a demanding director. And she knew the director who’d given her these notes. She’d worked with him two seasons ago. He was… not her favourite, to say the least.

And with the sudden urge to show up that know-it-all director, to prove him wrong, Jurina squared her shoulders. “Let’s do it again. I’ll pay close attention to that part.”

They ran through the scene once more, a bit more engaged than the first time.

And as much as it hurt her pride to admit it, she was starting to see what the director had been hinting at. But she didn’t want to give him any credit, so instead she said, “I think you’re too sure of yourself. Daphne thinks she knows who she loves—she thinks she’s got it all figured out, but she doesn’t. That’s what the whole play’s about. I think your Daphne now is the Daphne at the end of the script.”

Miona scratched at her brow as she listened to Jurina’s critique. “So I need to show more…”

“More… more back and forth, you know.” She spread her arms out to try and show what she was talking about. “Like you’re running headfirst towards Luis, right? And then Hector comes in and just _yanks_ you back—spins you in a new direction. And then you’re running there, too,” Jurina’s feet started moving in a curious circle, miming a sort of whiplash motion. Miona smiled at the funny scene, but tried to hide it behind her fist. “I think if you show that, that kind of reckless abandon, then your Daphne will be even more powerful.”

“Okay,” Miona nodded, the echoes of her smile still gracing her features. “I think I get it, actually.”

“One more time?” Jurina suggested, already getting in position. Miona started shuffling to her own place, but was pulled back—“Wait, just this time. Don’t hold back, okay? Push me if you have to, let me feel what Daphne’s feeling. Make the audience feel it too.”

And then Miona’s face steeled into the most serious expression she’d seen yet. Like she was ready to move Jurina by sheer force of will alone. For a second, she didn’t doubt she would.

And the next time through was different.

Every time Luis pulled her back, Daphne first fell into it, then pushed back. Like her emotions were the tide, ebbing and flowing and having no one capable of taming it. And at the end, even with the assurance that they were still in love, Luis felt the sting of frustration. Like Daphne was slipping through his fingers even while she was still in his arms. So he held tighter for his last line.

“Our love is real,” Jurina ground out, saying it like a wish. Like a promise. She searched Miona’s eyes for a reaction that would prove her wrong. But nothing came. So she let the other girl slide out of her arms. Ready to leave—

But Miona grabbed her hand, pulled it to rest right over her heart.

“As long as this beats… It beats for you.”

And that was…

Such a good adlib.

Jurina couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. That was so good.

Miona eventually released her hand and ducked her head shyly. The scene was over. This was the real her now. No more acting. “How was that?”

And how could Jurina be anything but real in the face of this startling honesty? So, she dropped her own act too. “I think you’ll be the perfect Daphne.”

“Nice way to say that I still need practice,” Miona giggled, idly rocking back on her feet.

“I mean… I saw your script. This was one of the cleaner pages.”

Jurina casually walked over to the rest of the script lying next to Miona’s bag on the ground. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a phone peeking out of one of the pockets, a silent alarm blaring. It was already 9:37 pm.

Wait. That’s right.

MIona seemed to realize that they were no longer on the clock at the same time she did. But, instead of pointing it out, she just plucked her phone from her bag and turned off the alarm. Threw it back down without a care.

“Hey, I like to take notes. It’s not my fault my handwriting sucks.”

“A likely excuse,” Jurina shook her head as she sifted through the other pages in the script. “Wait, no, I take that back. What does…” She squinted at a particularly illegible scrawl. “Is this even English?”

“Okay, that’s going overboard.” Miona snorted, offended. She grabbed the page to look at it herself. “Oh… maybe you’re right…”

Miona was the one who burst out laughing first, then Jurina had no choice but to follow. They tried to keep it down, but soon gave up. There was no one around to hear them anyway.

And that was the first time she was proven wrong by Miona Hori.

She lost track of the mistakes she’d made by this point.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pics are out and people have... opinions.

**_CHAPTER 3 - -_ **

The pics hit the world wide web the very next day.

Jurina hadn’t had final say on which ones would be published. She’d actually forgotten all about it until her mom gave her a heads up text around noon saying, ‘ _pics dropping in ten_ ’.

And yes, she’d finally turned her phone back on. Not in preparation of the pics, no. But to save a phone number from the night before. So.

She knew her mother and Paul had probably been poring over the camera roll of images all morning to piece together the perfect candid narrative of two theater stars who _did not_ hate each other. The pics that made the final cut definitely told that story. That… and so much more, to be honest.

Where to even start?

There was the indie film shot of the two of them sitting, backs against the wall, smiling as they read through the script.

**Ruu (12:15 pm):** okay??? you and miona???

There was the mid-action still of Jurina pulling Miona back by her arm, getting a fistful of her hoodie and a longing look thrown back over Miona’s shoulder.

**Nao (12:22 pm):** I’ve seen your face so much more these days than when you were active

**Nao (12:23 pm):** Let’s catch up since it seems you’re hanging round the theater

And the one that many of the seedier articles were running as their featured pic—a back shot of the two of them waiting by the elevators, Miona’s head resting against the wall and Jurina’s hand laid consolingly on her shoulder.

So.

It looked like their friendly neighbourhood photographer had stayed for way longer than just 20 minutes. Well, if your subjects were giving you this much content, then why not?

One thing quickly became clear the longer Jurina surfed the interwebs, however. Whatever narrative their teams had been planning to put out there, the internet had other ideas.

**Miona (12:38 pm):** Well, the reactions sure are… something.

**Miona (12:47 pm):** Also, thanks so much for helping me out last night. I know it was a publicity thing, but you didn’t have to stay for as long as you did or be as genuine as you were, so I really appreciate it. I know I’m new and rubbing a lot of people the wrong way and no one really cares how hard it is for me since it seems like I’ve just been given everything, but… I know you probably don’t care either… Either way, just having someone be in my corner for a few hours was really nice and just so, so, so refreshing. Thank you so much, really :)

**Miona (12:48 pm):** Sorry for the spam haha

**Miona (12:50 pm):** Also, this is Miona btw! Probably should have said that first lol

Jurina liked to think she had a heart. She liked to think she’d done well being in the industry as long as she’d been and somehow still managed to have a fairly healthy range of emotions. It’s what had made her such a successful performer.

Sure, she’d had an emotional breakdown just last week, but that was because she cared. A lot. About her career, about her friends’ careers, about her fellow actors in the industry who were just trying to do their best. She had a heart that cared a bit too much sometimes.

Which is probably why, when she picked up her phone after her shower and saw the block of texts from Miona, she immediately hit the call button next to the new contact.

“… Jurina?”

“The one and only,” she answered. “I promise I’m not ignoring you, I was just taking a shower.”

“Oh, thank god, I was worried I was being a complete creep,” Miona rushed out, sounding absolutely mortified.

“I’ve met creepier, don’t worry.”

“That… honestly concerns me a bit, but it also makes me feel better, so thanks.”

“Any time.” Jurina threw her towel over her still drying hair and sat down gingerly on the edge of her bed. It felt like she had to be a bit careful, like whatever rapport they had going could fall apart almost as quickly as it’d come together. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“So I’ve been doing this for a long time, okay. Eleven years,” she started, wetting her lips as she deliberated on how to say what she was thinking. “I’ve never been… quite as impressed by a new performer as I was last night.”

The line went silent for a moment and if it wasn’t for the breaths she could hear still coming through, Jurina would’ve worried that Miona had hung up on her. “You’re just saying that.”

“I think you’re really talented, Miona… Talented enough that there’s a part of me…” Jurina cared a lot. And sometimes she wished she could hide that fact. “There’s a part of me that wants you to go out there and blow all those critics away. I want that for you.”

“Wow… Thank you,” Miona murmured. She sounded touched, which was the reaction Jurina was hoping for. Then, a nervous chuckle. “But only a part of you.”

“The part of me that chose to stay back and help you practice. Not the part that agreed to a publicity stunt because the media hates me.”

“They don’t hate you.”

“Oh, yes they do,” she snorted. “But that’s fine, I’ll figure it out. My point is… thank _you_ for agreeing to do this.”

“Wow, I feel like this whole conversation is just us thanking each other,” Miona pointed out.

“Don’t worry, it’s all an act,” Jurina rebutted. “I don’t know if you heard, but we hate each other.”

“No we don’t.”

“Oh, yes we do.”

“Shut up,” Miona playfully threw back, her laugh coming non-stop through the speaker. It was a nice sound, really. Jurina caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the mirror and was not at all surprised to see a fledgling smile on her own face. It’d been like this last night, too. Unexpectedly fun. “Okay, wait, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Jurina replied.

“Non-work related, or maybe it is.”

“Oh, well in that case…” Jurina pulled the phone away from her ear, pretending to hang up, only to be stopped by a shout.

“Wait, don’t hang up!”

Jurina put on her best robotic voice and recited, “For personal questions, please press 1. For business inquiries, please email Not.Me@AKSinc.com. Please be reminded that Ms. Matsui is currently on hiatus and will not be timely in her responses to non-emergency correspondences.”

“… Very funny.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you done now?”

“I’m sorry, this is how I get my fun these days. When I’m not reading the dozens of articles they put out about me, of course. Probably a hundred today.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask about,” Miona admitted. “I know I’ve said this a million times already, but I’m still new to all this.”

“Not used to all the attention?”

“It’s more the intensity of it, really. There are some really… _passionate_ people talking about us right now.”

“Your manager didn’t warn you about this?” And now Jurina felt her heart doing it’s annoying caring thing again. There was nothing she hated more than being unprepared for something—be it a role or public appearance, it didn’t matter. She didn’t want any surprises. “He should let you know what you’re walking into—”

“I mean, he did tell me it would be a bit crazy, but… I don’t know. It’s just different from my ‘Under Construction’ stuff.”

“I get that. Theater’s a whole different beast.”

“Yeah…” Miona sighed, sounding more than a little tired.

“Are you practicing right now?”

“As always. In good old 1C, my new home.” Her tone was flippant, but there was that fatigue peeking through again. It made Jurina’s next decision an easy one.

“What’s your coffee order?”

\--

_‘Secret meetings as theater debut looms’_

_‘Leaked pics show unexpected relationship between rival theater stars’_

_‘A different theater story—rivals no more’_

_‘Miona vs. Jurina or… Miona and Jurina?’_

_‘AKS on the Nogi and SKE stars’ leaked pics: no comment’_

_‘Is Jurina ready to return? New pics show star practicing in theater with friend’_

_‘Behind the main stage; a burning rivalry or a budding relationship?’_

Jurina wore her hat down low, glasses firmly covering her eyes, hair stuffed under the hood of her nondescript sweatshirt. She’d even dropped her voice a pitch while making her order. Eleven years in the industry, she was more than an expert at flying under the radar.

It was pretty useful in cases like this, where everyone and their mother were talking about the ‘leaked’ pics of two of AKS’ biggest stars.

As she waited for her order to come out, she casually eavesdropped on the many conversations around her. And oh yeah. Not once did she hear the word ‘mentorship’. That was definitely _not_ how the news was going down.

But it certainly wasn’t a bad thing, by any means.

If her mother’s goal had been to get a counter-narrative going, she’d definitely been successful. There wasn’t a trace of the ‘lazy, entitled child star’ shlock she’d been seeing recently. It was all about ‘secret, forbidden romances’ and ‘star-crossed lovers’ and honestly, it wasn’t the worst thing her name had ever been attached to.

But it was a bit creepy listening to complete strangers dissect her non-existent love life so enthusiastically.

It’s fine, she tried to console herself. They liked her performance. That’s all it was.

\--

“I don’t like coffee,” Ruu greeted her as she walked into practice room 1F.

“That’s good because this coffee’s not for you.” Jurina plucked the other drink from the cupholder and handed it to the other girl. A smoothie. “Strawberry pineapple.”

“… Thanks.”

Jurina waved at the girls who were still practicing away behind Ruu. They didn’t snap to attention like they usually did, so she figured they were probably pretty engrossed in their work.

Ruu begrudgingly sipped at her drink, nodding at the taste. But Jurina knew she wanted to say something, so she just waited her out.

“So you’re dating now?” The younger girl finally asked.

“Says who?”

“Says literally everyone,” she scoffed. “Even Kano.”

Jurina’s eyes flitted to the tall undergirl on the other side of the room. She looked up, as if sensing they were talking about her, then blushed intensely under their gaze.

“Stop trying to embarrass your friends,” Jurina reprimanded.

“I’m not. Unless you’re talking about yourself, which, in that case—”

“I can’t stay for long.” Jurina took a step back, ready to leave. “Call me if you’re staying late, though.”

“Where are you going?”

“Somewhere.”

“You have no plans, remember? You’re on hiatus.”

“Enjoy practice,” Jurina waved, already at the door.

“Wait.” Ruu suddenly lunged at her, forcing her through the half-open door.

“Hey, you can’t just—”

As soon as they were out in the hallway, Ruu’s lips found hers. It was as sudden and unwelcome as all of their other kisses, but this one felt different. It was far more reckless, for one. Never had they kissed in such an open place—with their colleagues just on the other side of the door. It also felt like she was trying to make a point. To Jurina. To remind her that she still had this hold on her. The real question was why Ruu felt that a reminder was needed right now. What had changed?

Jurina pulled back gently, but firmly. “You can’t do that.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

They stared testily at each other for a moment. Why was this time so different than all the others? It felt like Ruu had changed the script and forgotten to tell her.

“Go back to practice, I’ll see you later.” Jurina pushed her towards the door. She needed space.

“Tonight.”

“Don’t forget to tell your mother—”

“She doesn’t care and neither do I,” Ruu shrugged. She opened the door—

“Ruu—”

And she was gone.

Even in that moment, Jurina knew that she’d made a mistake.

But, she couldn’t quite pinpoint where she’d gone wrong.

\--

Delivering coffee as an excuse to get out of the house somehow turned into four hours of running lines with Miona in practice room 1C.

Which then turned into Jurina persuading her to take a dinner break and “breathe real air. Theater air turns your brain to mush if you stay down here too long.”

“So that’s what happened to you, huh?”

Before a fight could break out, they left the building and found themselves at a nearby food truck. As they stood in line, Miona pointed out a magazine on the newsstand with a now-familiar picture on the front.

“Why do we look so shady?” She whispered into Jurina’s ear.

“Speak for yourself.”

“Why didn’t they use the smiley one?”

“The one in the room?”

“Yeah. The lighting’s good, you can see both our faces clearly, we don’t look like the walking dead…”

Jurina chuckled, but tried to stifle the noise. The less attention they brought to themselves, the better. “Is that your favourite one?”

“Hmm… good question.”

A question that Miona chose not to answer until well after they’d gotten their food and had decided to walk through the park. It wasn’t that chilly out yet and they had a smaller chance of being spotted if they kept moving. That, and the foliage looked pretty nice.

“I really like the ones where we’re acting,” Miona mumbled, mouth half-full.

“Really?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nodded. “I don’t know why…”

They stopped at a trashcan and threw away their crumpled wrappers. Jurina handed out the napkins she’d stored in her pockets. Miona took them with a grateful nod and did a rough sweep of her hands and face.

Jurina grabbed her hand to stop her before she could start walking again. “Wait, you went too fast.”

“Hmm?”

“Hold still for a second,” she said as she carefully brushed a crumb from Miona’s cheek. Jurina laughed at the sight of the blush that followed. “You were saying?”

“How much of a mess I am?”

“No, the pictures. You like the action shots,” Jurina prodded, resuming their walk.

“Oh yeah… I guess it’s because I’m used to TV stills where there are only like 5 angles and every scene looks absolutely perfect, you know. Color-corrected, over-produced, manufactured—”

“Wow, tell me how you really feel.”

“Sorry,” Miona huffed. Her eyes fell to her feet, like they always used to back when they first met, but then they flew right back up. Blazing hot, no longer shy. “I’m just a bit sick of it all, I guess. That’s why I wanted to audition for the theater. It just looked so much more… real.”

One detail stuck out to Jurina’s ears. “You auditioned?”

She didn’t know why that surprised her. Had she subconsciously thought that management had just handed Miona the role?

“Yeah and I didn’t make it.”

“Wait, what?”

“That was the first time, at the start of the year. My manager was like, well that’s it, you’ve had your fun. Back to TV, Miona, back to the real money.”

“Why’d you try again? What changed?”

Miona pursed her lips, looking almost reluctant to open her mouth, but then— “Well, you did.”

And at first, Jurina didn’t understand what that meant. “Me? But…” And then it all made sense. Again. It all came back to her, didn’t it? Her failure. “My hiatus.” Of course.

Miona stuffed her hands in her pockets. They shuffled along the path for a few moments before the girl belatedly finished her train of thought. “A new role came up and my second audition went a lot better. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks later that I realized _why_ they really hired me, but… that’s not why I’m here. I came because I wanted to do something different, something real.”

You can’t replace a star, but other stars can align so perfectly so as to block it completely from view. Shine in its place.

Jurina absentmindedly nodded. “I really hope you find what you’re looking for.”

\--

In her eleven years at the theater, Jurina had never once missed a season premiere.

Granted, she’d always been there as a performer, making the stage her own. This time would be different. She realized just how different when she picked up the piece of mail on her kitchen counter.

In it were two VIP tickets for the main show. Usually, the theater would only send them one, for her mother. This time…

“How’d you sleep, honey?” Her mother asked as she stepped purposefully into the kitchen.

“Good.”

“Is that girl still here?” You’d think she’d lower her voice when asking something in a tone like that, but no. Not her mother.

“Yes, mom. Ruu’s still in my room.”

And then there was the huff. The ‘I’m disappointed, but I won’t say anything’ huff. Except, she did say something, too. “That’s the fourth time this week.”

“She has late practices and lives two hours away.”

“I’m just saying. It wasn’t this bad last season.”

Jurina watched the passive-aggressive way her mom took out the extra ingredients to accommodate the extra mouth she now had to feed. Why did this bother her so much?

“This is Ruu’s first season in the main show. It’s different now, you know that.”

“What I do know is the more she hangs around you, the more her career seems to just take off—”

“Are you saying she’s using me?” She wouldn’t be the first mother to suggest that.

“I’m saying you need to be more careful. Look,” her mom sighed, trying to calm herself down. “Your career is evolving. You’re at a stage where it doesn’t take much for you to cause a stir—everyone’s watching you. To do well, to mess up, they don’t care. And the people around you? What are they getting? Why are they there? You have to start asking these questions, honey, because we can’t afford any surprises right now.”

The sound of her mother furiously chopping up vegetables filled the otherwise quiet kitchen. Jurina didn’t want to be there anymore. She dropped the tickets back on the counter, got to her feet.

“Tickets for the season came in.”

“Throw them out.”

“… What?”

“There’s no reason for me to go,” she pointed out, shaking her head. “And I don’t know what management thought they were doing sending you one. There’s only one place for you in that theater. Center stage.”

Jurina didn’t even bother responding. She just went back up to her room.

\--

“We need to talk.”

Ruu didn’t even look surprised when she heard that. She just shifted under Jurina’s bed covers, making herself more comfortable. “About what your mom said?”

“No.” Jurina locked her bedroom door. Just in case. “About you. And what happened the other day.”

“What happened?”

“Be serious.”

“It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”

“Ruu,” Jurina admonished. They were better than this. Closer than this. They could be honest. She walked over to the bed, carefully laid down on top of the covers, faced the younger girl who fearlessly looked back up at her. “What’s going on?”

“You have to be more specific than that.”

“Okay.” At least it was a start. “Are rehearsals going well?”

Ruu shrugged, looking like a little burrito under the covers. “As well as I’d hoped, I guess.”

“And the other girls?”

“Same as always…”

“So what’s different?”

And the look that Jurina received then told her too many things all at once. Probably the easiest to pick out was the fear. Ruu was scared. “Can I tell you secret?”

“Always.”

“I was happy… when you went on hiatus.”

And Jurina just smiled. “That’s not a secret.”

“I’m supposed to be your friend. I’m not—I don’t want to be what our moms think I am. I don’t want to be that girl who sleeps her way to the top and hopes that all her competition gets sick and—”

“And you’re not.”

“But I was happy,” Ruu stressed, not wanting to let it go. “I thought, now I have a chance. I know I’m not better than you, but I’m better than a lot of the other girls. I thought that… if you’re gone, the distance to the top isn’t that far anymore.”

Jurina threw her arm over her burrito girl and pulled her close. It looked like this was something she needed to get off her chest. All Jurina needed to do right now was just be there for her.

“But then it wasn’t like that. Yeah, you left, but then Hinano came in, then Miona, then they switched up the shows and now… It feels like it’s getting even farther. And there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“You keep working hard.”

“But, then what? When do I get my turn in the spotlight? Will I ever get it?”

“… I don’t know.”

Ruu sighed, staring up at the ceiling now. “I just want to stop losing all the time.”

Jurina pulled the younger girl in until she was nestled in her neck. Unleashing the strongest weapon of all, the super cuddle.

“You won’t lose me. I promise.”

She added an extra squeeze to make sure that Ruu knew she meant it.

“Even when you get old and get a girlfriend and stop coming to the theater ‘cause you’re too old?”

“Hey!” Jurina pulled back and pinched Ruu’s cheeks. “I will never, ever stop coming to the theater.”

“Eeven vhen you’re ohld?”

“And I’ll never get old. Ever.”

“Vhat avhout—” Jurina decided to have mercy and released Ruu’s abused cheeks. “What about your girlfriend? If I say I don’t like her, will you break up with her?”

She gave it more thought than the question was probably worth, especially considering the fact that she was currently still very single. “I promise… that I’ll think about it.”

Ruu rolled her eyes. “If she’s not hot, my respect for you will be irrevocably lost.”

“Noted.”

Jurina grabbed the younger girl’s head, tilted it down and planted the loudest, most embarrassing kiss on her forehead. She laughed when she saw Ruu’s scowl.

“Hey. What do you think your mom thinks we’re doing up here?”

“I literally do not care.”

\--

And it was easy passing the pre-season weeks like that.

Stopping by the theater most days of the week, helping Ruu and her friends practice for the main show. Helping some of the other girls too.

Even when they didn’t need much of her help at all.

Because it’s not like she needed to be running lines with Miona as much as she did. The Nogi girl was good, better than a part of her wanted to admit.

But… just like the tabloids that seemed to have a new pic of Miona and Jurina every week, she found herself carried away with their new narrative.

Mentorship? Probably not.

But it was something.

In any case, it was the best pre-season she’d ever had at the theater. And that should’ve been the biggest red flag of all.


	4. Chapter 4

**_CHAPTER 4 - -_ **

The week before the season premiere was when everything usually went to shit.

Emotions running wild, all those sleepless nights finally coming back to bite the girls in the butt, the pressure of being perfect at an all-time high. Pre-premiere week was an absolute mess.

It was also the first time Jurina was genuinely happy to be on hiatus.

While Ruu and the other girls were running around with their heads chopped up, she was the most relaxed she’d ever been.

Media coverage of the theater had long shifted away from her absenteeism and secret relationship with Miona to the real meat of the season. Which theater would rise above the rest with the premiere of their lives and which one would explode in a hot mess of overdone, overwrought and overrated performances. SKE had never failed to impress, at least not in the last eleven years. They’d been consistently ranked in the top 2 since their opening, with a recent string of number 1s that made them a heavy favourite.

However, due to circumstances already discussed, this season had the potential to be very different.

Most pressingly, their two-week premiere would now be split into two halves. The first week playing the main show, and the second week playing a Miona-fronted noon show that was already creating a media frenzy. Effectively having two premieres made SKE the theater to watch this season, for sure.

It also made the theater a hotbed of volatile emotion in the week leading up to D-day.

Once again, Jurina was so, so happy she was on hiatus.

So happy.

Not even seeing paparazzi pics of herself and Miona splashed across the front pages of a few tabloids could kill her mood. She took up one of the magazines, admiring the angles and lighting of the shot. It had been taken while they were out eating at the park the other day. Nothing too incriminating. Just something to keep the story of their non-rivalry alive.

Jurina didn’t know if this was still her mother’s doing, but decided not to ask about it. The less she knew about that side of the industry, the better.

What she did do was snap a photo of the tabloid with her phone and send it to Miona. The other girl responded in seconds.

**Miona (11:01 am):** You should buy it.

**Miona (11:01 am):** Put some money in those paps pockets so maybe they can buy better cameras and take better pictures :)

Jurina laughed, but she did find herself paying for the magazine when she finally reached the checkout counter. Her phone buzzed again and her morning got even better.

**Nao (11:08 am):** How about the breakfast diner on 5th?

**Nao (11:09 am):** I haven’t eaten in days

\--

“Please tell me you were lying about not eating,” Jurina pleaded as she slid into the booth.

“I don’t lie,” Nao rebutted with a thousand-yard stare. Even tired and running on fumes, the theater girl still managed to retain her trademark intensity. How did she do it?

“How’s life?”

“Miserable.”

“Hi, can I get you ladies started with any drinks?” The waitress swooped in to the rescue, handing out the menus.

“Can I have a Bloody Mary?” Nao drawled out.

A nervous chuckle. “Um, I’m sorry, we don’t serve alcohol here.”

“Hold the Mary, then.”

“Um… I don’t…”

“We’ll have orange juice,” Jurina cut in. “And some water, thanks.”

“Water and OJ coming right up,” the waitress nodded, all but sprinting away from their table.

Nao rolled her eyes and Jurina had to bite back a smile. She’d missed the special brand of insanity that were her castmates. Nao, in particular, had a character that she very rarely got out of. It made normal, everyday interactions very… interesting.

“Congrats on your lead role, by the way.”

“Thanks. I hate it,” Nao bit back.

“No, you don’t. You hate the politics and the fact that management banned alcohol in the theater after 11 pm. But, you love acting.”

“Damn… you got me.”

Jurina chuckled freely this time. “Ruu says the sword fighting scenes still need work?”

Nao let her head fall limp on her shoulder, really leaning into her half-dead persona. “Ruu says?”

“We talk.”

“You could’ve asked me and I would’ve told you that all our fight scenes _need to be cut_ because our new lead _cannot_ swing a sword to save her life.”

“And that’s why I talk to Ruu.”

“Sure,” Nao snorted. “That’s why.”

The waitress came back with their drinks and Nao turned her nose up at the glasses. She opened her mouth to comment—something wildly inappropriate, no doubt—but Jurina spoke up first. “Thanks. Give us another minute to look at the menu?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

Jurina smiled as the waitress left, then turned her attention back to her less-than-amused partner. “Let’s try not to get kicked out of this one, too. I like the food here.”

“Fine.”

They somehow managed to place their orders without an issue and Jurina felt like luck and good fortune were really on her side today. That was, until Nao asked the question she’d probably been dying to ask. In a way only she could.

“So you can’t perform, but you can still bone the new girl in the basement?”

Jurina choked on her French toast. She quickly downed a healthy swig of water which seemed to help. But her face still felt like it was on fire.

“I’m not _boning_ anyone.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just impressed, is all.”

“Don’t be, because it’s not true.” These rumours were getting out of hand.

“What’s the truth, then?”

Jurina shrugged. “We’re friends. That’s it.”

“And Ruu?”

“What about her?” Nao was not too impressed with that response, so Jurina tried again. “Ruu and I are also friends. I don’t know about you, but I have no trouble having more than two friends at once.”

“I really, _really_ hope you don’t call me your friend.”

“You are my bestest, best frie—” Nao suddenly hurled her fork at her and Jurina only just managed to move out of the way to avoid getting splattered with egg bits. “ _God_ , I can’t take you anywhere.”

“It’s the theater brain, I can’t help it.”

“Not true,” Jurina scoffed. “Look at me, I’m fine.”

“Exactly.” Nao grabbed her orange juice and, not taking her eyes off of the other girl, chugged it all down in one breath. When she finished, she tipped the glass over her head. The chances of them not getting kicked out of the diner were getting slimmer by the second. “You should come back,” Nao said amidst a few burps. “Come back to the theater before you completely lose your theater brain. You’re too normal now.”

“What if I like normal?”

Nao snorted derisively. “Then you’re a better actor than I thought if you can fool yourself like that.”

Jurina knew the other girl was playing with her, having her fun to take her mind off her hectic week ahead. But, also, Nao wasn’t a liar.

So she asked the question she hadn’t dared to even ask herself.

“And what if I can’t come back?”

An eyebrow raised in slight surprise was the only outward reaction. “Then you’re not trying hard enough. And if that’s the case… you might as well stay out.”

Their eyes locked in a heated challenge that Jurina knew she couldn’t afford to lose. Because who was she if she wasn’t trying her hardest? Who was she if she wasn’t a winner? But a different winner this time. One who’d been knocked down, but then gotten right back up. Was she even strong enough to be that kind of person? Did she want to be?

Nao blinked first and smiled, accepting defeat, if only for now.

“I need someone who won’t fall down every time I try to hit them with a sword.”

“Or maybe don’t hit people with swords,” Jurina offered.

“You know I can’t do that.”

\--

**Miona (8:57 pm):** hey…

**Miona (8:58 pm):** you’re probably not awake right now, but if you are, I could really use your help

As it turned out, Jurina had been awake. But just barely.

She’d had a pretty good day. Falling asleep while watching a nature documentary would’ve been the perfect end to cap it all off. But the universe apparently had other plans for her.

Instead of texting back, she decided to call Miona.

“I’m awake,” Jurina reassured her friend when she picked up.

“Good,” came the trembling reply.

And that’s what really woke Jurina up. She sat upright in her bed and moved the laptop off to the side.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just… just… everything,” And then the sobbing started. Quiet at first, but then louder as she finally let go.

“Miona. Hey, talk to me.” Jurina felt her heartrate increase the longer her pleas went unanswered. Belatedly, she realized she was panicking. But thankfully her years of experience kicked in and she was able to at least project a sense of calm. This wasn’t the first breakdown she’d had to ride out. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need, whatever you need.”

“I don’t—I’m sorry…” Sniffles as Miona struggled to get herself under control. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called—”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m… 1C. I’m in 1C.”

“I’m on my way.” And Jurina was already halfway across the room, heading for her closet.

“No, you don’t have to, I’m sorry—”

“Just stay in 1C and I’ll be there soon, okay? Can you do that?” Jurina stopped moving as she listened closely for Miona’s answer. It was a long time coming, but finally she heard the response she was hoping for.

“Okay.”

\--

Miona was not okay.

That was the first thing that became apparent the second Jurina stepped into 1C. And, as had been established, she cared too much. So all other actions that followed were more instinctual than explicitly thought out.

Miona was hunched in a ball in the corner, so that’s where Jurina went.

She squatted down in front of her and, as soon as their eyes met, offered her hands to the hurting girl. The message was clear. I’m here for you if you need me.

Miona wiped the tear tracks from her face, then wordlessly took her hands and allowed herself to be pulled up. Up until she was on her feet and swaying unsteadily.

Jurina held still and provided the anchor she needed to regain her balance. Once she was sure the other girl wasn’t in danger of falling over, she finally asked, “Ice cream or pizza? Which one sounds better right now?”

Miona’s lips stretched into a watery smile, “Actually… I kind of just want a hug.”

“I can do that, too.”

Their hands fell apart only to soon find themselves wrapped tightly around each other. And so they hugged. For minutes on end. Neither one of them showing any indication of wanting to pull apart and so they didn’t.

“Any time you need my emergency hug services… I’m always on call,” Jurina murmured.

“I’m really sorry for this.”

“Don’t be… Can I tell you a secret?”

“Why does it feel like everyone’s got some kind of deep dark secret around here? Is this normal?”

“Definitely not,” Jurina chuckled, shaking her head. She pulled back from their hug and gestured for them to move towards the ground. Her feet were getting a bit tired. After they got comfy against the wall, cuddled into each other, she finally revealed, “I think about quitting the theater at least once every season. And most seasons I get pretty close.”

“… How close?”

Jurina tilted her head to look at the ceiling as she thought. “Like this time last season, sitting where you’re sitting right now, feeling like I couldn’t live up to what everyone wanted from me… I sat here for hours… Wishing I was strong enough to just walk down the hall and end it…”

“But you didn’t.”

“One of my mom’s special skills: talking me out of destroying my own career.”

Miona’s right hand drifted towards Jurina’s thigh and slowly started tapping out a random tune. “Is that why you went on hiatus?”

“In the end, I think so. I mean, I put on a good face and pushed through the rest of the season. But after it was over, I just—I knew I couldn’t keep going.”

“Was it the same like last year? When you first…”

Jurina shook her head. “No, the break last year was a mess of me trying to do too much. Pro tip: you should never not sleep. Sleep is good.”

“Noted,” Miona smiled.

“Last year I crashed before I knew what was wrong. This year, I think I finally realized something.” Jurina looked down at Miona’s hand that was still tapping away at her leg. “There has to be more than just this, you know.”

Miona’s hand stilled, probably sensing the extra attention.

“Did you find it?”

“Not yet. But just knowing that there’s something out there? Makes whatever terrible things happen in here seem not as bad, I think. Perspective.”

Miona nodded and, a few moments later, her fingers started tapping again. It was a lazy movement, speeding up and slowing down at random intervals.

Jurina found that she really liked the rhythm.

\--

**Mom (3:25 am):** AKS got hacked

**Mom (3:26 am):** haven’t seen details, but Paul says your name’s being thrown around

**Mom (3:26 am):** don’t go to theater today or rest of week


	5. Chapter 5

**_CHAPTER 5 - -_ **

All in all, it took 3 days of Jurina not really feeling the pressure of pre-premiere week for the universe to drop the other shoe on her.

An email leak.

Hundreds of correspondences between all levels of management at AKS and its theaters, all out there for the world to see. From trivial business like scheduling shows to the stuff of every reporter’s wet dreams, like how to maximize fan spending by having unofficial meet-and-greets in the off-season. For every clean email, there were ten more discussing things that were clearly meant to be off-the-record.

It wasn’t pretty.

And for all the hell this new development would bring in the upcoming days, Jurina didn’t hear a single word of it for a good two hours after she woke up. She’d forgotten to charge her phone the night before. And she’d forgotten to care that her phone was dead when she woke up and was greeted with an amused,

“You snore in your sleep, you know.”

Jurina wrinkled her nose in disagreement. She turned over to face away from her bedmate, keeping her eyes closed. “No, I do not.”

“You do and I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to break up now,” Miona said with the utmost sincerity. Her voice was still raspy with sleep, forcing her to speak quieter than she normally would. Not a bad sound to wake up to in Jurina’s book.

“Snoring’s a deal-breaker for you?”

“I work very long hours, I can’t have someone keeping me awake at nights.”

Jurina snorted, not too tired to miss the double-meaning in the other girl’s words. “Fine. But you have to be the one to break it to the news outlets.”

“Me?”

“Yeah...” Jurina yawned widely, pawing at her face to try and massage it awake. “You’re the one who can’t look past a superficial deficiency to see the amazing catch that I am. Kinda sad.”

“So you admit it?”

“That I’m a catch? Absolutely—”

“That you snore.”

That did it. Jurina went quiet for a moment, then suddenly flipped over onto her back. Miona yelped in surprise beside her, dissolving into a fit of giggles. She covered her mouth to try and stifle them, but to no avail.

Jurina slowly cracked open her eyes and turned her head to mock-glare at the other girl.

“I invite you into my home, into my bed, out of the kindness of my heart and this is how you treat me?”

“Were you expecting something else?”

“Yes.”

“Like what? I’m not nearly that easy, you know.”

Jurina rolled her eyes. “God, nothing like that. Shut up.”

“No, tell me,” Miona insisted, turning over onto her stomach and resting her chin on her arms. “What do the other girls usually reward you with for the honour of staying in the bed of such a huge star?”

The words were playful, but they also had a certain edge to them.

Jurina carefully searched Miona’s eyes before asking, “You don’t really think I’m like that?”

“I think it’s easier to be like that with your kind of money and influence.”

And there really was nothing she could say to counter that, because she was right. But Miona didn’t sound accusatory, just curious. Trying to feel out the finer details of who Jurina really was now that they’d crossed into a new stage of their friendship. Trying to see if it was worth investing more into it or if she’d be better off pulling out now.

“You can leave if you want and we’ll never bring this up again,” Jurina offered. “Just a one-off night in a stressful week.”

“You’ve done this before.”

“Yeah, some of the other girls have slept over ‘cause I live so close to the theater. Same deal. No strings attached.”

Miona watched her for a moment, taking her time to make up her mind. Then, she nodded. And pushed herself up off the bed.

A pang of disappointment washed through Jurina, but she didn’t say anything. She just let the other girl do what she wanted. It was her choice, after all.

Miona walked to the other side of the room, to the bag she’d placed there the night before. She checked her phone, but it was dead. So instead, she grabbed an elastic band from one of her bag’s pockets.

Jurina watched as she came back to stand in front of the bed, tying up her messy hair as she went.

“You don’t realize the power you have over these girls do you?” Miona liked to maintain eye contact when she asked questions now. It was a bit unnerving, especially when compared to the shy demeanor she’d displayed when they first met. Was it really all just an act back then? Shouldn’t that turn her off—why was Jurina so intrigued by the contrast?

“I think it’s the other way around, actually.”

“No. They’d do anything you asked them to. Anything.”

And then Miona got back onto the bed. She sat back on her knees, right next to Jurina’s outstretched body. It really felt like Miona had all the power now, looking down at a subject to be examined.

The silence stretched on for a moment, but Jurina knew she wasn’t expected to break it. The ball was still in Miona’s court. To do… whatever she wanted. Anything.

“What ever happened to that part of you that you talked about?” Miona wondered aloud. “The part that wants to see me crash and burn.” Her lips quirked back up in that playful, teasing manner. “How does she feel about you hugging and housing me in the middle of the night?”

“Not sure. She’s been a bit quiet lately.”

“Oh?” Mona cocked her head.

“Want me to wake her up?” Jurina chuckled at the strange turn their conversation had taken.

“No, let her rest,” Miona decided. “But… she’s definitely still in there?”

“You say that like she’s not in you too.”

A nod. A hand swept over a makeshift ponytail to try in vain to smooth out the flyaway hairs sticking out. Then, Miona again changed her seating. She shifted so she was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest this time, still angled so she could face Jurina.

“You know,” Miona began, once again driving the conversation towards a place only she knew. “There’s a reason people like us so much. As a couple, I mean.”

Oh?

That was an interesting turn.

“And why’s that?”

“Because we shouldn’t work together. At all,” Miona chuckled. Her eyes were different now, softer, looking like they wanted to be challenged.

And Jurina felt like she’d finally been let back in to whatever this was. So she pushed herself up onto her elbows and quirked an eyebrow at the other girl. “Says who?”

“Says you and me… and the very big parts of us that want to see each other fail.”

“Kind of like star-crossed lovers?”

“Yeah.”

Jurina smirked at how easily Miona had walked into her trap. “So like Daphne and Hector, then?”

Comparing them to the lead characters of their noon show was probably a cheap shot, but Jurina took it anyway.

Miona was not impressed.

“No. Not like them. I mean we’re too competitive. For our careers to work out, _we_ can’t.”

“Yet, here we are,” Jurina answered simply. She laid back down on the bed, maintaining eye contact all the while. 

A scoff. But then a small smile and a begrudging nod in agreement. “Yet, here we are.”

And there they were.

At a very different place than they’d been in when they started this conversation. Which itself had been vastly different from where’d they’d been last night. And that being different from where’d they’d been in their interactions before then too.

They were moving. Had been doing so for a while, but it felt like they could finally see the progress they’d made.

And the place they’d been heading towards without really knowing?

It felt like they might be close.

**Mom (7:51 am):** releasing a statement soon. next days will tell real story

\--

“What time you going in today?” Jurina asked as she carefully spread jam on her piece of toast.

“Dress rehearsal’s at noon,” Miona answered. They stood over the kitchen island as they chowed down on their breakfast of champions: toast and eggs.

“Not going in before that?”

“Why? So everyone has even more time to tell me how much I suck?”

Jurina paused at the particularly barbed comment. “Is that why…?”

“It’s not like I can’t take criticism,” Miona replied, trying to explain her thoughts. “I’ve taken _plenty_ these last few weeks. I know what I’m doing wrong.”

Jurina took her time to chew through her bites. “I wouldn’t take it to heart. Everybody gets a bit crazy this week.”

“Yeah… I guess I just needed a break.”

“I know the feeling.”

Miona reached for the carton of orange juice and poured herself a very tall glass of the golden liquid. When she finished, she took an almost comical small sip. “Are you coming to the premiere?”

A moment spent diligently spreading jam over another piece of toast. A big bite. A moment and a half spent chewing every last morsel. And then, “Probably not.”

“Why not?”

Because her mom told her it was a bad idea. Because she was right. “I don’t know. Not really up to dealing with the whole…” She waved around the half-bitten piece of toast in her hand. “Everything.”

“Right.” Miona took a decent-sized gulp from her glass this time. It felt like there was something she wasn’t saying.

“I’m not performing, there’s no reason for me to go,” Jurina explained.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well, I don’t want to be a distraction,” she rebutted. “The focus should be on the stage, not me.”

Miona nodded, taking another sip. “Fair point.” But it didn’t sound like she’d been fully convinced. Why couldn’t Jurina convince her?

“You want me there?”

“I’m not trying to tell you what to do—”

“But you think I’m wrong.”

Miona shrugged and that was that for a while. They finished their meals in silence. After gulping down the rest of her drink, Miona gathered her dishes and moved around the island towards the sink. But Jurina snagged her shirt before she could pass her. She couldn’t let this go.

“Tell me.”

“You want me to tell you that you’re wrong?” Miona challenged.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Ok. You’re scared.”

It was said so easily and with so little importance behind it that it really shouldn’t have struck Jurina as hard as it did. She chuckled reflexively because she didn’t quite know how to respond. Miona wasn’t trying to convince her, it shouldn’t be this hard to tell her she was wrong. She just had to say it.

“Because I won’t go to a flashy premiere?”

“No.” Miona’s gaze was unwavering and it was getting harder to not look away. But she couldn’t. She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t. “It just, everything makes sense to me now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what? What suddenly clicked for you?”

“Jurina—”

“I’m not trying to attack you, I just want to know why you think that. Do I look scared?”

“No, but I am.”

Immediately. Jurina released her grip on Miona’s shirt and stepped back. “I’m sorry—”

“No, not you,” Miona rushed to clarify. “I’m not scared of you, that’s not what I’m talking about.” A sigh. A hand reaching out to pull her back in so they weren’t so far apart any more. “The reason I didn’t want to go in early today? I’m scared. Yeah, I’m tired from practicing 24/7, but I’m also just flat out terrified that I’ll never get better…”

Miona’s eyes flitted around the kitchen as she got her thoughts together.

“You never said why you were still on hiatus, so I was trying to figure it out without asking.”

“And you think I’m scared?”

“I think… you were the first person I called last night—not my manager, not my mom, not any of the other girls…” A particularly deep breath. A tongue slipping out to quickly wet her drying lips. “I think you understand me more than anyone else in my life right now. Yeah, some of that’s experience, but… the way you talk to me, the things you say sometimes? It’s like looking in a mirror.”

Miona’s hand was fisted in her shirt, keeping them close. Keeping them tied to the moment. Keeping Jurina tethered to a conversation that she didn’t want to be having. The blood rushing past her ears was a sign that her flight-or-fight instincts had long since kicked in. And flight had won.

But Miona’s hand held her there. And breaking apart seemed like an impossible task somehow.

So she stayed.

“I guess AKS finally got it right then,” Jurina chuckled, trying to bring some levity back to their conversation. “You’re the perfect replacement.”

Miona rolled her eyes. “I’m not—”

“No, you’re right. I’m scared—just like you are, just like every other girl is. But you’re not the one hiding away like a coward, right? No, that’s just me.” It was like a switch was flipped. Jurina suddenly pulled away and walked over to the stack of letters on the counter. She rifled through them until she found what she was looking for. The VIP premiere tickets. She threw them down on the counter. “If I didn’t want the spotlight, I wouldn’t be in this business, right?”

Miona watched her warily. “I don’t know… Why don’t you tell me what _you_ want?”

Jurina’s gaze stayed on those godforsaken tickets for a long while. Like they had all the answers she needed. And maybe they did.

“I love the theater.” The words came easily, honestly. “I love performing.” That was the truth she’d been struggling with for so long. How to reconcile her passion with everything else that came with it? “I don’t want to stop performing.”

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

“That’s impossible,” Miona smiled ruefully. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Jurina looked up and found Miona’s gaze steady on her own. “All these secrets… you’re right, it’s not normal.”

“It’s not,” Miona laughed. “Some advice then?”

“Sure.”

“From me, a theater girl who hasn’t even debuted, to you, a theater star who’s been in the industry eleven years.” She waved her hands between the two of them, pulling a few chuckles with her over-the-top gestures. “Please listen closely.”

“I will,” Jurina promised and she meant it.

“And I think it’s something I need to hear, too.” Miona took a deep breath, then let it out as she allowed her body to relax. Releasing all the built-up tension. “I’ve never performed for a real audience before. I practice in front of empty seats every day and yeah, when I debut that’s going to change, but… It shouldn’t change how I perform. Whether anyone’s watching or not, or if they have something to say—none of that should matter. I’m not performing for them.” Miona shrugged, idly playing with her fingers as she spoke. She rocked back onto her heels for a moment, then fell back onto her feet. “I’ve got a tiny little room of people who matter to me. Up here.” She comically pointed to her head in an overly-exaggerated manner and Jurina couldn’t help but laugh.

“Like those mean girls inside of us?”

“Exactly,” Miona played along. “And no matter how many people actually fill up the theater, that room stays the same. So… I should too, I think.”

Hopeful eyes stared back at her and Jurina found herself helpless to the message they were trying to portray. Like a mirror, right?

She could see it.

“… Not bad.”

“Pretty good advice, right?” Miona’s smile was smug, but not-overly so. Like she knew that Jurina wasn’t fully onboard quite just yet. But she was getting there.

“Not bad,” Jurina repeated, nodding.

They washed up their plates together, reveling in the limited time they had before Miona had to leave. Their phones were still off, but charging.

The TV hadn’t been turned on. No music playing in the background either.

Just the two of them working around each other as they got ready for the day. Like a mirror. Like two sides of a coin that had just been flipped. Like a puzzle that had finally come together.

Not a replacement, but a complement.

So, that’s how they were.

And like that they got ready. A shower with spare towels. Getting dressed in the bedroom with borrowed clothing while the other showered. Looking around the space that few other people had seen before. Meeting in the living room once they were both done.

In theory, they shouldn’t work well together at all. But in practice, it was seamless.

“Do you have your phone?” Jurina asked as she put on her jacket.

“Starting it up now. It’s updating,” Miona responded, phone in hand.

“Mine’s at 2% so I’m leaving it.”

“Are you sure?”

“The theater’s right around the corner.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Jurina laughed. She hopped around on one leg as she slipped on her shoes. “Don’t believe me? Pull it up on maps—it’s not even 5 minutes.”

But Miona just slipped her phone in her pocket, ignoring her request. She reached for the doorknob first, but Jurina pushed on the door to keep it closed.

“Come on, pull it up,” Jurina insisted.

“I bet it’s 6 minutes,” Miona rebutted, but she pulled the phone back out all the same. Together, they watched as her phone went through its last round of updates. Once the home screen popped up, Miona navigated to the maps app, but—

Her phone started buzzing like mad. Notifications filled the screen—texts, emails, missed calls, schedule updates, social media interactions, everything.

“Whoa,” Miona exclaimed, taken aback. She almost dropped her phone in shock.

“Hello, Ms. Popular.”

“Except, I’m not.” She shook her head and glanced up nervously at Jurina. “Not even when I’m on covers does it get this crazy.”

“Well… something happened.”

“Yeah, something bad.”

“Or, or…” Jurina tried to come up with some plausible alternative to the doomsday scenario that so many notifications would imply. But nothing. “Or maybe it’s not just you? Let me check my phone, okay?”

“What? Do you think it was an earthquake and we didn’t even feel it?”

“Don’t panic. Hold on, let me just—” Jurina tripped over her untied laces as she backed up towards the staircase. She kept her hands up, trying to stave off Miona’s worrying. “Let me just check mine before you—give me a second!”

Jurina hurried up the stairs leaving Miona in a pile of nerves by the door. Her phone was still going off in her hand and she wanted nothing more than to throw it away and pretend this wasn’t happening. Maybe it was good news? Maybe she’d gotten an award or been selected for a new role. Maybe everyone had woken up this morning and had the overwhelming urge to express their love for her.

Nothing she thought up felt like it warranted her phone blowing up like it was. No way this was good news. This was bad, bad, bad.

She needed air.

She yanked open the front door and if that wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever made in her life.

“Jurina! Jurina!”

“Jurina, over here! Can we get your thoughts on—”

“Oh wait, isn’t that—”

“Holy shit, that’s the Nogi girl!”

“That’s Miona!”

“Miona! Does this mean the rumours are true?”

“How long have you and Jurina been dating—”

“Does AKS know you two are living together—”

“Will the premiere be cancelled? Are you two leaving the company?”

Miona slammed the door closed as quickly as she could, but not before getting a face-full of camera flashes and nosy paparazzi questions thrown at her. What the absolute hell?

She pressed her back against the door, trying to catch her breath.

She spied a much more subdued Jurina slowly making her way down the stairs. She was glued to her dying phone and looked like she’d seen a ghost.

As soon as their eyes met, it was clear that it was bad. Whatever was happening was very, very bad.

“Jurina…”

“It’s AKS. They were hacked.”


	6. Chapter 6

**_CHAPTER 6 - -_ **

Yes, Jurina’s mom had told her to stay away from the theater.

But.

But, that had been before Miona had opened the door and basically confirmed all of the internet’s seediest and nosiest rumours about their ‘relationship’. Not even a full minute after she’d closed the door, at least five articles had already popped up in their news feeds. Mostly just pictures and a headline, because no human being could actually type that fast.

But. It’s not like Miona could just stay at Jurina’s house and never leave. She had to go to the theater, she had to go to practice. There was no avoiding the swarm just outside and there was no way Jurina was going to let her brave it alone.

So.

So, they mustered up all the courage they had—and called Miona’s manager to come pick them up. He didn’t ask too many questions because no doubt he’d already heard about where his client had spent the night. He was also already so waist-deep in dealing with the AKS hacking fallout that Miona could have probably told him she was pregnant and it wouldn’t have bothered him.

He drove up and offered them as much cover as he could as they ran from the house to the car. Maybe he punched a reporter or two in the process, who could blame him? He dropped them both off at the theater with the advice to try not to worry, but to keep their phones on at all times. Anything could happen.

Practice was slightly delayed, but not by much. The show had to go on and all that.

But while Miona fought her good fight on the stage, Jurina cocooned herself in the VIP balcony seating and surveyed the damage done online.

It sure was something.

In her eleven years in the industry, she’d never seen anything like it.

AKS was facing its biggest scandal ever and yet people were still thirsty for gossip on the will-they-won’t-they relationship between two of the company’s biggest stars. Maybe even more so now. Their names had skyrocketed to the top of the search engines, each scandal fueling the other in a perfect shitstorm. Maybe there had been an earthquake that morning, but no one would ever know because all over the internet, on every breaking news station, it was just: AKS, Miona and Jurina.

_‘Company in flames or bed in flames; Jurina and Miona’s wild night in pics’_

_‘No rest for the wicked; AKS stars spend night together after company hacked’_

_‘AKS is hacked and MioJuri is real’_

_‘Love rises through the ashes; AKS on the brink and MioJuri on the rise’_

_‘HACKED: AKS emails leaked and why everyone’s talking about ‘MioJuri’’_

_‘When your company gets f**ked so you do too; AKS stars spend romantic night together’_

“Jesus,” Jurina cursed at a few particularly tasteless articles. “We didn’t even—ugh!”

She dropped her phone on the seat beside her, making sure that it was still connected to the charger between the seats.

“Urgh,” she groaned out, dragging her hand down her face. This couldn’t get any worse, could it?

The only silver lining was that her mother hadn’t contacted her at all since her last text this morning. Maybe she hadn’t seen her daughter’s media faux pas?

Unlikely, but a girl could hope.

Jurina looked down at the stage and let herself just focus on the ongoing rehearsals for a while. She knew the script by heart, she knew each of the girls who’d been cast in the noon show, had seen most of them develop over the years—maybe she could offer some helpful critique.

What a good idea.

Or it would’ve been a good idea if her eyes weren’t fixed on just one girl. The one girl who she’d known for the shortest amount time. Who’d managed to completely infiltrate her thoughts and her carefully curated public life.

The one girl who should’ve been the most nervous on stage today, but who shined brighter than any other. Miona.

“You’re so good…” Jurina said in the same tone as her previous cursing. Like it came from an subconscious part of her that just had to be let out. “Fuck… why are you so good…” And it really was uncanny, how the stage came to life at her feet. She could already see the theater reviews that would be written when she debuted, fawning over the star-to-be. “Like a mirror, huh?” She squeezed her eyes shut, breathing out heavily through her nose as she tried to compose herself. But she couldn’t. “Maybe I _am_ a narcissist.”

Before she could further question her strange attraction to people who reminded her of herself, her phone buzzed beside her. The staccato rhythm of texts coming in was easy to recognize.

**Ruu (2:32 pm):** juriruu sounds better

**Ruu (2:32 pm):** but what do I know, I don’t have a manager

**Ruu (2:33 pm):** or do I

**Ruu (2:33 pm):** ???

**Ruu (2:33 pm):** the answers u seek are in 1F…

\--

So that’s where Jurina was headed. Down into the bowels of the theater.

Past the crazed tension of pre-premiere week rehearsals upstairs and down into the heads-on-fire AKS scandal tension that came from the offices downstairs. Jurina didn’t _have to_ walk past the managerial offices to get to 1F, but she was nothing if not morbidly curious.

So. That’s how she ended up on the other side of the basement.

And that’s how she found herself walking past practice room 3C.

Except she stopped.

And made no attempt to hide her staring as she watched the lone occupant inside practicing her heart out. It wasn’t great. In fact, she’d already spotted at least 3 mistakes in barely 15 seconds. But. But she could tell that the girl herself knew she was far from perfect.

So she kept practicing. Again and again. Until the sword fighting choreography started to look passable.

Even with the company facing a crisis, here this girl was, making sure that her performance would be the best it could be. A true theater girl through and through.

And Jurina’s biggest fault had always been that she cared too much.

So.

With a quick text to Ruu telling her she’d be there in a bit, she quietly entered the room.

“Oh, hi,” Hinano rushed to greet her as soon as she realized who’d walked in.

“Sorry to interrupt you.”

“No, it’s no problem at all.” The girl wrung her hands nervously, obviously wanting to make a good impression. “Did you need the room? I can leave if you want—”

“Actually… I was hoping we could practice together for a bit.”

And the way the younger girl’s face lit up was all the assurance Jurina needed that she was doing the right thing. Miona was right, she had power here. Even now when everything was going to shit. Maybe especially now.

So she’d better make sure she used that power well.

\--

“Did you get lost?” Ruu asked when she eventually made it to 1F a little over an hour later.

Jurina huffed and immediately walked over to lie down beside the other girl. The room was empty save for the two of them, so she didn’t have to worry about her reputation in here. What was left of it, anyway.

Ruu looked over at her from her seated position and showed her the phone in her hand.

“MioJuri is a terrible couple name.”

“Please tell me you’re not looking us up.”

“Oh, I don’t have to,” Ruu replied, scrolling down her feed with a smug grin. “There’s nobody on the internet who’s not talking about this.”

“Still?” Jurina groaned, flinging an arm over her eyes. “It’s been hours.”

“You severely underestimate the power of the press. Honestly, the story they’re telling about you two—reclusive theater prodigy falls head over heels for the shiny upstart chosen to replace her by her own company? And now throw in corporate espionage and boom!” Ruu exclaimed, flinging her hands out wide. “People are, dare I say, invested.”

“Ruu.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I really like her.”

Eyebrows raised in shock, but trying not to show it. Hands returning to the phone in her lap. “Okay.”

“Yeah… You’re the first person I’ve told, by the way.”

“Well. Thanks, I guess.” Ruu scrunched up her nose, realizing how caustic she sounded. “I mean, thanks. Really.”

“You’re my number two, you know.”

“Please stop,” Ruu said, rolling her eyes.

Jurina smiled at the back of the other girl’s head, at her attempt at playing off her confession. “What do you think? About her.”

“Well, she’s hot, so… you could’ve done worse.”

“You don’t think we’re too similar?” At Ruu’s quirked brow, Jurina explained, “Our competitiveness, our work rate—you know, all that. We’re both in the same industry too.”

“I guess…” Ruu turned her head to face her. “But if you can look past it, then… it shouldn’t matter.”

And it was the slightest inflection as the other girl spoke that had Jurina flashing back to another conversation they’d had, alone in a room quite like this one. When she’d said she’d never date a castmate. Oh. Yeah. How could she explain that it wasn’t like that—that if she had the choice, she wouldn’t want to break her self-imposed rules for Miona either. But it didn’t feel like she had a choice with Miona at all, it felt… different.

But it looked like Ruu was remembering that exact same moment, too, because she flippantly said, “Oh, don’t worry, I’m over you now.”

And that threw Jurina for a huge loop. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “I think I only really started liking you because my mom thought it was a good idea.” And it was only through years of them being such close friends that Jurina knew Ruu wasn’t trying to be mean. Just honest. Even if it hurt her pride a little bit.

“And suddenly you’re over me.”

“Because I realize that I can’t tie my self-worth to anybody but myself. If I’m going to get to the top, I need to be able to stand on my own two feet—not your feet or my mom’s feet.”

“… Okay.”

Ruu had such a peculiar way of thinking, but that’s what Jurina liked about her. It’s what made her so unique and unwilling to settle for anything but the best.

“I’m a new Ruu now.”

The other girl had a self-satisfied look about her that seemed real enough. Like she really had turned a page in her way of thinking. And that’s when Jurina suddenly remembered the texts she’d received that had beckoned her to this very room. She sat up, a full-fledged smile on her face. “A new Ruu with a new manager?”

The answering smile on the other girl’s face was blinding. “It just happened.”

“When? Before or after our company did the dirty?”

“Before, thank god!”

“And you didn’t tell me? Ruu!”

“I was going to!” Ruu exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defense. “I just wanted to make sure it’s what I really wanted and see if she was a good fit and what plans she had for my career and, you know…” She gestured wildly, then squeezed her hands into fists before releasing them along with a breathless chuckle. “It looks really, really good.”

“Aww Ruu,” Jurina cooed as she threw her arm over the other girl’s shoulders. She brought her in for a super cuddle worthy of such excellent news.

“She even gave me a crisis plan when the hacking news dropped. I don’t know, I’m kind of excited.”

“As you should be.” Jurina pulled her phone out of her pocket and offered it up. “Can I run her name by my manager so he can dig out all the skeletons in her closet?”

Ruu rolled her eyes. “Please, as if he has any time.”

“Well, he works for me, so if I need him to do this—”

“ _You_ don’t need this—”

“And just because you don’t like me anymore doesn’t mean I can’t still spoil you rotten,” she smirked down at the younger girl. “Anything for my number two, Ruu.”

“Oh god,” Ruu groaned but did nothing to stop Jurina scrolling down to her manager’s number.

Just before she could hit the call button though, a text came through. From a number labeled, _SKE Theater Manager_.

The preview read, ‘ _Ms. Matsui, I heard you were in the building…_ ’

Their eyes both widened and they glanced at each other before Jurina quickly opened the text. Ruu read out the words on the screen.

“‘ _Ms. Matsui, I heard you were in the building and was hoping you could drop by my office for a brief chat. A recent opportunity has come up that I feel might interest you._ ’” Ruu glanced over at the unmoving Jurina beside her. They were both thinking the same thing. “Jurina. This sounds fishy.”

“A recent opportunity…”

“It’s gotta be related to the hacking. They’re trying to cover their asses somehow, there’s no way this is genuine.” Ruu sat up, staring heatedly between the phone and the girl holding it. “You should tell your manager, let him deal with it.”

“Yeah…”

And it really was so simple. She would tell her mom or her manager—either way would lead to the same result—and they’d handle whatever this new management scheme was. She wouldn’t have to worry about anything after that. That’s how it had worked for the last eleven years. That’s the system that had gotten her to this point in her career.

That needed to change.

Miona was right, she had power here.

Suddenly Jurina was on her feet with a determined look on her face.

“I’m gonna go talk to him.”

Ruu clambered up after her, looking more than confused. “What, now?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out in a rush. She felt fired up. Maybe it was the vertigo, but she liked the feeling. “I’m here and he’s right down the hall, so yeah. If he wants to talk, I can talk.” She nodded her head, psyching herself up. “I know what I want.”

Ruu had a concerned look on her face, but eventually relented. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.” And she was. More than sure, in fact. “That’s all your manager’s supposed to do anyway. Tell the people who matter what you want. And help you get it. But…” She pocketed her phone with all the resolve she’d been missing for far too long now. She felt a bit like Ruu—like she too was turning a new leaf. It felt good. “Sometimes you don’t need any help.”

\--

“Jurina!”

The Theater Manager was a loud guy who usually gave off a friendly, fatherly vibe. Not today, though. Today, he looked stressed out of his mind if his slightly disheveled appearance was anything to go by. And his office was… Well, it had obviously seen better days.

“Come in, come in,” he said as he uselessly tried to clear as much space as he could. He moved a stack of papers to reveal the lone free seat in front of his desk and deposited the papers onto his own chair. There was literally no other place he could’ve put it. He tried to play it off though. He perched against the corner of his desk and gestured for her to sit down with a smile on his face.

Jurina looked at the seat and immediately heard a tiny voice in her head that sounded like her mother and manager all rolled into one. ‘ _He obviously wants something, he’s trying to get in your good graces._ ’

And even though she felt nervous for the simple fact that she was going at this alone for the first time in her entire career, it was nice to know she still had an edge. This was only a performance. One she’d seen many times before, in almost every possible variation. She had listened in and learned all the lines over time.

Now it was her turn to take center stage.

“I can’t stay, sorry. Maybe we can talk after the premiere, when things aren’t so busy?” ‘ _That’s good,_ ’ the voice trilled in her ear. ‘ _Let him know you can leave but he can’t. He’s the one that’s trapped here, not you._ ’

“Oh, this won’t take too long, really. Just something I wanted to run by you,” he quickly explained. ‘ _The premiere is too late, he has to get this done before then. He needs you._ ’ “Please, sit down, sit down. Let me—let me close the door so we can…”

He shifted around her and pushed the door shut.

Jurina gingerly sat down on the edge of the proffered seat. She wasn’t here to stay.

She got right to the point. “There was a recent opportunity you said.”

“Right,” he responded as he shuffled around the desk to his own chair. He remembered too late that it was covered in papers and stood awkwardly for a moment. He chose to lean back against the closed blinds of the window instead. “I know your mother and I’ve already talked about you coming back to the theater. She’s been very, uh, vocal about your situation—”

“About my health, you mean.” She needed to remind him that she was the one in the room now. Not her mother, not her manager. Just her.

“Right, your health—and I’m not suggesting that you rush back in or anything. We only want what’s best for you,” he nodded. ‘ _They only want what’s best for the company, he means._ ’ “I mean, I remember when you first came in. You were what, ten, eleven? Not even out of elementary school and half the size of most of the other girls,” he chuckled. “But you were better than all of them—it wasn’t even close. You were untouchable.”

He sounded earnest, but he always sounded like that when he talked to her. It was when he spoke to her mom or manager that the fangs really came out. And that’s how she knew he wasn’t taking this seriously yet. Did he think he could just talk her up till she said yes to whatever ideas he’d come up with to save his ass?

“Except I’m not a child anymore, remember?” She spoke slowly, making sure he paid attention to each word she said. And her attempt at jogging his memory worked. She could see the second he realized that she’d just said the same words he’d said to her mother all those weeks ago. “These kind of compliments barely worked back then, what makes you think they’ll work now?”

His face fell like a rock, his smile wiped clean in an instant.

“Jurina—”

“My health hasn’t changed, so unless something’s changed on your side, there’s nothing much for us to talk about.” She had to admit it was oddly satisfying to play the part of her mother. And she was starting to see why the woman could say the things she did sometimes. She knew she had the upper hand. “Look, I’ve given you as much time as I can, but I have to leave now.” She stood suddenly, already moving towards the door. Her hand reached for the door knob, ready to turn—

“Jurina, please!”

A smirk towards the door that he was unable to see. A hand carefully pulled back to her side. And then she let her face settle into a more neutral expression and turned. It was a performance that would win awards in most circuits.

Behind the desk, she saw a man who was at the end of his rope, grasping for straws that were quickly slipping from his grasp. She had him.

“I need a star. I can’t… Just one show, or just an appearance or—or anything! Just something to take the pressure off so we can start fixing this.”

“You want me to help clean up AKS’ mess. I’m sorry, I must have missed the part where this was what’s best for me.”

“Please,” he pleaded, hands clasped in front of him, a bit like the undergirls did whenever she walked into a room. But, whereas they looked bright and full of potential, he just looked pitiful. “We could lose the theater... This is bigger than anything we’ve ever had to face.”

And Jurina’s biggest fault was that she cared too much. She cared about every single girl in this theater, and even those from their rival theaters. She couldn’t let AKS’s screwup kill the careers of the girls who were working harder than any one of those management suits.

But.

She was a star and she had more power here than even she realized.

It was time she showed them all what eleven years at the top of the industry could do.

You can’t replace a star if it never stopped shining.

‘ _That’s my girl._ ’


	7. Chapter 7

**_CHAPTER 7 - -_ **

**Miona (4:43 am):** Finally going home… :(((((

**Miona (4:44 am):** I know you’re probably sleeping, but I just wanted to say thanks for helping me out yesterday. with the whole paparazzi thing, but also before that letting me stay over and everything… This week’s been rough… But you’ve been a pretty big highlight for me. couldn’t have asked for a better ‘girlfriend’ haha

**Miona (4:50 am):** and just want to let you know… if I don’t see you at the premiere… you’re in my tiny room so

**Miona (4:51 am):** I promise I’m not crazy just hella tired :’)

\--

It wasn’t easy getting booked on a late night TV show on a major network.

It usually took weeks of planning in advance with an endless amount of calls and emails with the producer and a promise of some kind of media exclusive. A sneak peek for a movie, a juicy story from the set, an agreement to partake in whatever games the host had in store for that night. Nothing in the industry was free—prime time exposure and promotion in exchange for something of equal weight.

So the fact that it only took a day to book Jurina’s appearance on ‘The Kinda Late Show’ with the only requirement being for her to answer the host’s questions as best she could… it was very concerning.

She knew it couldn’t be this easy.

The taping would take place over the course of three hours starting at 11 am and her episode would go on air that very night. She was sure they’d bumped some other guest off the episode to fit her in, but she wasn’t going to ask. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

But also, be very, very wary of gift horses in general.

That’s the mindset that Jurina had as she sat in the green room waiting to go on to the soundstage in front of the live studio audience. She was wary as all hell.

“Breathe, honey,” her mom murmured from her seat beside her. The woman was casually flipping through a magazine, looking every bit the high-strung parent she was pretending to be. Anything to divert the scrutiny from her daughter. “You’ve done this a hundred times. It’s just another performance.”

“This doesn’t feel weird to you?” Jurina knew her mom had also noticed the strangeness of this whole thing. It was in the way she’d been extra snippy to the staff who’d done her daughter’s hair and makeup. It was how she hadn’t left her side once since they’d gotten out of the car that morning.

“Of course,” her mom scoffed. “They want you to mess up so they can put your name in every headline. They want AKS to suffer and they think you’re going to help them.”

“I know.” Maybe Jurina was in over her head here. Why did she think she could do this?

“But little do _they_ know…” The smirk on her mother’s lips was subtle, hidden away from the other staff in the room. Only for Jurina’s eyes to see. “We have an ace in the hole.”

“An ace?” This was news to her. Yes, it was awesome that her mom always had the upper hand, but it sure could catch her off-guard at the best of times.

“You and that girl. For whatever reason, the internet is going crazy over you two.” Her mom rolled her eyes, but with a smile that suggested that it was a welcome gift in the current media madness surrounding them. “We show a few pics, you talk over them for a bit and the rest is TV history. The show gets a trendy puff piece, AKS gets some good press and we…” A smile that she knew all too well. Checkmate. “We’re back in the game, honey.”

And now it was all starting to come together.

Her mother had taken it rather well when she’d told her about her conversation and the subsequent deal she’d made with the SKE Theater Manager. She’d asked a few questions, then had gotten to work on booking the TV appearance. Jurina had thought it was because her mom had trusted her to be able to negotiate on her own. But that obviously wasn’t the case.

A TV appearance that had been confirmed far too quickly—almost like it had been under discussion long before this. All that time she’d been away from home over the last few days. All those meetings she was always in but never told her about. Her mom had been playing a long game that was finally coming to light.

“You booked this show a long time ago, didn’t you?” Realization was pouring in like a relentless wave.

“If you’re sitting around waiting for your time in the spotlight, you’re never going to get it.” Her mom’s lip curled up as she spoke. She’d been preaching the same sermon for years now. “You have to set the narrative.”

“Where did those pics come from?” Jurina asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it out loud this time. “Not the first ones, after that. At the park, that café, in town.” She’d been avoiding the truth of this whole thing for far too long now.

“Don’t worry about it, honey.”

“Mom.”

The steeliness in her tone drew more than a few curious looks from the other staff in the room. She saw her mom’s jaw tensing and knew she wanted to say something. She was just waiting for their little audience to lose interest.

It wasn’t until the show had started, when the guest before Jurina was being ushered out on stage, that her mom finally turned to her and said, “Look at the news and you’ll see why we did this. AKS is firing management left and right, some theaters won’t even let their girls go to school until this mess dies down. But that’s the thing. You can’t wait—this won’t die, so unless you want to say bye to all your hard work because of some sweaty hacker trying to make a quick buck—” The soundstage door swung close and the staff moved about in a flurry as the interview started. No one was paying attention to them. “Either you sink with them or you rise above. And that’s what we do, Jurina. We rise above.”

“You had people follow us. That’s not normal.”

“No, but it’s what’s going to give us the edge in this whole mess. If you wanted normal, you should’ve stayed in TV when you had that phase back when you were 13. ”

Jurina shook her head. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Except, actually, she could. She _could_ believe her mom could be so crazy as to invent a PR relationship and then have her daughter stalked without her knowledge. This was right up her crazy alley.

There was only one thing she could do now.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” Jurina announced.

Eyes rolled with a sigh, not at all taking her seriously. “That’s not your choice.”

“No, it is.” She held her ground. This wasn’t just about her career. This was her life and she was done letting her mom control it without her input. “I don’t need your ace, I’m not bringing Miona into this.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, her manager agreed—” 

“But I didn’t,” Jurina cut in. “And I’m sure she didn’t either. So no, I’m not doing this.”

Her mom’s eyes narrowed dangerously at her, but she wasn’t budging. Not one bit.

“Just like that?”

“Yes. And you know what?” She had to get this off her chest while she still had the nerve. “I’m going to the premiere tomorrow. You can come if you want or not, but I’m going.”

“Jurina—”

“I want to support my friends. Not everything has to push my career forward or whatever,” she waved her hand to get her point across. “I can push theirs too. I want to do that for them.”

The air between them was the most tense she could ever recall it being.

Surely some of the other staff had noticed it as well, but no one said anything. They had the ongoing show taping to worry about.

“Ready for you in ten, Miss Matsui,” came the announcement some time later.

She was ready.

She had no idea what to expect out there, but she was ready. She was a performer, all she had to do was—

“I’m proud of you, honey.”

Jurina whipped her head around to stare at her mother when she heard those soft words. The older woman looked worn and tired. Exhausted. But, sure enough, there was overwhelming pride shining through her eyes as she looked at her daughter.

“I don’t think I realized how much you’ve grown up. You’re not a little girl anymore.” And she looked a bit sad as she said that. But she shrugged, already accepting this new revelation. That was her mom alright. Always one step ahead.

“Thanks,” Jurina smiled. “Eleven years, remember?”

“Eleven years and still going strong,” Her mom nodded, resolute and proud in her response.

\--

**Jurina (3:49 pm):** I hear there’s something big happening at the theater tomorrow. Any ideas what it could be?

**Ruu (3:52 pm):** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Ruu (3:53 pm):** my funeral. It’s my funeral. I’m gOING TO DIE JURINA!!!!!!!

**Jurina (3:55 pm):** Want to stay over tonight and eat junk food?

**Ruu (3:55 pm):** Maybe tomorrow.

**Ruu (3:56 pm):** gotta stay focused. And ready. Ready for my funeral. Gotta be ready for my funeral jurina

**Jurina (3:57 pm):** cool cool

**Jurina (3:58 pm):** how much coffee have you had today

**Ruu (3:58 pm):** !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

**Jurina (4:01 pm):** got it

\--

**Jurina (6:19 pm):** should I have an ambulance on standby for tomorrow.

**Jurina (6:19 pm):** for when you finally snap and stab the new girl with your sword

**Nao (6:24 pm):** ha

**Jurina (6:25 pm):** also good luck

**Nao (6.25 pm):** thanks. we won’t be needing it though

**Nao (6.26 pm):** we’re ready

**Jurina (6:28 pm):** really?

**Nao (6:31 pm):** surprise surprise, new girl doesn’t completely suck anymore. just in time too

**Jurina (6:33 pm):** happy to hear it

**Nao (6:40 pm):** we’ll save a rose for you

\--

“So…” The TV host stared at Jurina with an expectant look. An excited titter went through the crowd. Everyone had read the news, everyone knew why she was really there. The real question was how much the host would be able to get out of her before time ran out.

“So,” Jurina responded, playing the purposefully obtuse star that she knew the audience would get a kick out of. And they loved it. She managed to draw a few healthy chuckles with just one word. Game on.

“So, I heard you like food trucks.” Oh, that was a good first shot. An inside joke for those who had seen one of her and Miona’s more infamous pictures together. “They have them outside the theater, right? Do you go often?”

She had to be careful in answering this one. “Every now and then, you know. When I have time.”

“When you have time,” he teased.

“Yeah. Between practices if I’m hungry.”

“You have a lot of time these days, I hear.” Already swinging towards the topic of her hiatus. This host sure worked fast.

“Yes, I’m currently on hiatus from all theater activities. Medical leave.” The audience made sympathetic noises that she actually really appreciated, so she continued. “So no performances, very little media—”

“That’s right, this is your first interview since the announcement, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Well, first off, thank you for gracing our humble little studio with the presence of a living legend,” he bowed exaggeratedly, then got to his feet as he started applauding.

“Oh, come on,” she tried to wave him off, blushing, but he was having none of it. The audience was following in his stead, giving her a standing ovation that was actually quite genuine now.

“Eleven years at the top. That’s not easy,” the TV host marveled as he sat back down.

“I mean, there were a few dips here and there.”

“Well, who hasn’t made a few mistakes once or twice? Speaking of dips, I hear the food truck at the theater has a chicken dip that’s to die for.” He switched topics so effortlessly that Jurina would’ve been caught off-guard if she hadn’t been expecting it. But she was.

“It does,” she played along. She smiled along with the audience who was having a blast watching them banter back and forth. “You should try it some time.”

“I would, but I’m watching my figure, you know. Anyway, I have something to show you.” He leaned back in his chair and reached for something under his desk. Jurina was momentarily panicked as she wondered what he would bring up, but her nerves abated somewhat when all he had to show was a piece of cardboard. It had strips of paper covering lines of what looked like words and a search bar at the top. She had an idea of where this was going.

“You’re on social media, right?” He asked but it was obvious he knew the answer.

“I have a few accounts that my team manages,” she confirmed.

“But you go on it yourself sometimes too,” he prodded.

“I do.”

“I don’t know if you’ve been on the last few days…”

“I think the last time I posted was like a week ago.” She looked towards where her mom was sitting beside the producer on the edge of the audience. Her mom nodded and Jurina knew the real message she was sending—you’re doing great, keep going. “I’m usually focused on practice or just getting rest, so I’m not on there a lot. But a lot of the other girls at the theater are, so they try to keep me in the loop.”

“Remind me to send them a bread basket later,” he glibly responded. “They’re doing the lord’s work.”

“They are, they are. And for so little pay too.”

She watched as he peeled back the strip of paper at the bottom—he was obviously going to work his way to the top.

“Do you know what MioJuri is?” And the audience couldn’t hold back anymore. Tentative chuckles gave way to loud guffaws as they exploded in laughter. That’s it. They were being more than entertained right now. And the main stars were only just getting started.

Jurina leaned back in her seat, shrugging her shoulders in a careless fashion. “Not off the top of my head, no. What is it?”

The host looked back at her, knowing that he’d been caught and she was just pulling his chain now.

“It’s a… combination of two things—two things that the Internet has been absolutely obsessed with nowadays. Both from your theater.”

“My theater? SKE?”

“Yes. I’ll give you hint, they’re people. Um, they’re girls—or women, really. And one of them is sitting in front of me right now.”

Jurina cracked a smile at that, but quickly tried to cover it up before she gave up her bit. The performance wasn’t over yet.

But she decided to throw him a bone. “Can I solve the puzzle?”

“Go right on ahead!” The host shouted in his best gameshow-host impression.

“Jurina… and… Miona?”

“Ding, ding, ding!” He stood up, pushing back his chair to the back of the stage, throwing away the cardboard prop in his hands. “Bingo! Touchdown! Goaaaaaaal!” The audience was in stitches now, laughing with no end in sight. “You’ve just won for yourself a brand new car—wait, hold on, I’m getting word from my producers right now—” He looked at the producers who just grinned back at him. “—they’re telling me that you have not won a new car. Well. This is awkward. I’m sorry, Jurina, sometimes things like this just happen—”

“Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry.”

“—it’s just, money’s tight and we spent all that money on that Hawaiian cruise last month—maybe next time.” He sat back down in the chair the stagehands had rolled back for him, sobering up quickly. “So. No new car in your future, but… maybe a new girlfriend? What can you tell me about that?”

And just like that, she had a choice. The ball was in her court now. He’d left it off perfectly, audience primed and eager, not needing much of anything to push them back over the edge. She could continue the bit, play into what her mother had planned or…

“Can I tell you a secret?”

This provoked quite a few raised eyebrows, a hush falling over the studio.

“What am I going to say to that, no? Of course not. Though I can’t imagine AKS wanting anymore of their secrets getting out these days…”

“I’ve only met the head of AKS once, back when I first went on hiatus.”

“Really?” The host leaned in, not sure where she was going with this, but not wanting to miss any of it. “But that was only last year, right? You’ve been with them for eleven years.”

“Yep. Twelve years after this season ends. And… yeah, I always heard things through the SKE theater manager—chain of command and all that, never directly from the top. I knew they were happy with what I was doing, I just never knew who they were, you know. Until last year.”

“And what was it like? I’ve heard he’s a pretty scary dude.”

“I mean, it was a scary time. For me, at least.” Jurina looked down at the mug they’d handed her when she’d gotten up on stage. A prop. There was no water in it. A reminder that this was only as real as she made it. “But he said he’d give me as much time as I needed to recover. Told me to get some rest.”

“And what about this year? What did he say?”

“Nothing. But he didn’t need to,” she shrugged. “You see, our main shows are different every season. Last year it was my hiatus, but to do it again this year… that’s just not how we operate. The company has to move forward, the theaters have to move forward, and the girls performing in the theaters—they have to change the most. They have to be better, they have to work harder, smarter. Or they get cut.”

She could tell they didn’t quite know how to react to that last statement, so she decided to help them out.

“And I got cut. Pretty early on too, it just took me a really long time to figure it out.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat, picked up the mug of non-existent water and took a careful sip. She returned it to the table. Her eyes flicked over to where her mom sat, to check in—but there was nothing to be read from the expression on her face.

“Wow… They cut you. And you had no idea.”

She chuckled. “Contrary to popular belief, there’s a lot of subtlety in theater. Nothing’s spelled out for you so a lot of the times you’re just swimming in the dark, you know.”

“So when did you find out?”

“I think… When I realized that there was something stopping me from getting back on stage, and I had no idea what it was anymore. Through the off-season I’ve been helping my teammates, all the girls in the theater—running lines and stuff, eating at food stands, walking in parks…” She added a bit of levity with that last line.

The host nodded seriously, following her lead. “Taking elevators, wiping off food off cheeks…” The audience tittered, happy to be let back in on the fun.

“Right, I was doing all of that. And I was having fun. In the theater, outside the theater, I was comfortable in a way I hadn’t been in a long time. So why wasn’t I performing? Why not? It ended up being a more personal revelation than you’d think, finding out I was fired.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah. The answer was that I just wasn’t a theater girl anymore. I wasn’t fit for the job anymore, mentally, physically… And if I wanted that back, I had to make that choice. I’m lucky in that I have the power to decide if I want my job back. That’s something that eleven years gives you.”

“And what’s your decision?” He sits back in his chair, giving her the stage for herself.

“I’ve decided… that the SKE theater needs a food court. Yeah, I think it’d be nice to have a few local food shops in there, you know. That’d be nice.”

The host blinked in surprise, obviously taken aback. “That is not what I thought you were going to say.”

“That’s what I’m looking for my eleventh year. And for my twelfth—”

“Hold on a second, slow down,” he rushed to get in. “So it sounds like you’re staying with the company. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“I’m staying with SKE,” Jurina corrected. “With or without AKS, that’s my home. That’s what I’ve decided.”

“Without AKS?” He was confused, but trying desperately not to get left behind. “Those are some heavy words.”

She shrugged.

“I think you’ll find that in our theater, we’ve never really spared much thought to what the people up top are doing. If there’s a fire in the main building, we’ve never felt the heat and that’s how it’s going to keep going. This season and the next and the next,” Jurina nodded resolutely. “For SKE, as long as our fans come to see us, we’ll keep the show going.”

A loud whoop went up in the audience, followed by a deafening round of applause, cascading into a standing ovation that Jurina knew she’d earned. She’d killed it.

And for the coup de grâce, an assist from an unlikely ally.

Her mother.

But she’d always been on Jurina’s side, even when her methods had left much to be desired.

“Hang on a second, I’m getting word from my producers—it’s not fake this time—” The host looked askance at the producers sitting on the edge of the stage as they gestured to something on their phones. One producer was furiously writing on a whiteboard while another ran off the set, rushing to double-check something. And in all the pandemonium, her mom sat silently, a smirk on her face. She caught Jurina’s attention and she mouthed something that only she’d see, ‘Eleven years, baby.’

“This is happening right now, as we’re shooting the news is coming in—”

A producer dashed on set, handed the host his phone and dashed back off.

“Wow,” was all the host could say when he read what was on it. And the audience was understandably confused, muttering wildly amongst themselves.

Finally the whiteboard was held up with a message for the host to see: ‘ _Let Jurina read the headline, camera 2_ , _then commercial_ ’

Jurina turned his way right as they’d both registered what was to happen. The performance wasn’t over just yet. She just had to fly blind for this last bit.

“Jurina, could I ask you to read the headline of this article? I think you might find it very interesting.” Boy, it had better be, given the mayhem it had caused on set.

She carefully took the phone, reading aloud as soon as she saw the words, letting the shock hit her at the same time it did the audience.

“KeyBlade Studios buys out SKE Theater, including all performers and staff contracts, in landslide deal worth…” she gasped. “worth $2 billion—holy shit!”

She covered her mouth as the audience erupted in shocked applause.

“Wow, just—that’s a lot of money.” She couldn’t believe it.

“Alright, we have to go to commercial. The SKE theater will have their main show premiere tomorrow night at 7 pm. But,” he paused dramatically during his sendoff. “We’ll do you one better folks. This is completely unrelated to the KeyBlade news, by the way, we’d planned this ages ago. Since some of you might not have been able to get a ticket in time—we’re televising the premiere live tomorrow night, right here on this channel!”

Jurina closed her eyes. This wasn’t real. How was this real?

“Jurina? Jurina stay with us,” the host laughed.

“This is crazy,” she managed to squeeze out.

“We have one more thing to ask of you.”

“I—sure, whatever.”

“Since the theater world might be new to a lot of our viewers, would you mind co-hosting the live view party with me tomorrow?” This host. Unbelievable. He smiled at her shocked face, giving her time to soak it all in.

“What am I going to do, say no?” She laughed, joining in with the audience.

“Alright, don’t touch that remote, we’ll be right back with our new best friend Jurina right after this break.”

Unbelievable.


	8. Chapter 8

**_CHAPTER 8 - -_ **

_‘KeyBlade buys SKE as AKS goes quiet’_

_‘AKS to postpone theater premieres, sends home cast; SKE premiere unchanged’_

_‘SKE, the only theater left standing; why their premiere matters now more than ever’_

_‘MioJuri and SKE come out on top, AKS left drowning in premiere week’_

_‘SKE vs AKS; How a beloved ace and a rising star saved a theater’_

_‘KeyBlade speaks on SKE deal; CEO was longtime fan’_

_‘So… you like theater now? Here’s the SKE premiere drinking game’_

_‘Jurina to host SKE liveshow; top questions fans want her to answer’_

\--

Jurina was awake.

It was barely 7 am and she was sitting at her kitchen counter, focused intently on her phone.

“Have you picked any yet?” Her mom asked, whisking the pancake batter in the bowl in her hands.

“I can’t,” Jurina sighed. “There are _so_ many questions.”

She dropped her head onto the counter, mindlessly scrolling through the #AskJurina tag on her social feed. She had to pick a handful to answer during the liveshow tonight.

“Chocolate chips?”

“Hmm?”

“In your pancakes. Chocolate chips?”

“Yeah, sure… Hey… Do you think I should answer any MioJuri questions?” She kept her head down, not looking up to see how her mother might react.

“Well. That’s your choice.”

Jurina pushed herself upright, pushing away her phone.

“You said her manager agreed to that deal, right? He wanted us to ‘reveal’ our relationship… Why?”

Her mom pursed her lips, in that way that was all too familiar. Like she would do such a better job if she was the one calling the shots.

“She’s young—new fish in a very, very big pond. There are worse things her name could be attached to. And, given AKS’ current predicament, the more she can do to separate herself from those bad apples the better. Business, honey. That’s why.” She poured some of the batter on the skillet, sprinkling a handful of chocolate chips on top. “Now, why he allowed her to get tied up in AKS’ schemes in the first place, I’ll never know. Should’ve never let her audition the second time—red flags everywhere. But,” she turned down the fire, making sure her food wouldn’t burn. “You make mistakes and then you turn them into strengths. Roll with the punches, throw a few yourself. Win the match, honey. That’s how you stay on top… That girl’s just getting started.”

Jurina watched her mom work. Sometimes she just talked, ostensibly to her daughter, but really, it was for herself. Explaining her methods. Talking through her process. Wanting an outlet for all that she has to deal with every week. A theater girl could take breaks, but a theater mom could never stop.

No time to look back on her mistakes, she just had to keep going.

“I’ll ask her,” Jurina resolved. “She’s not in the premiere tonight, so it might not even come up.”

“Your choice, honey.”

And maybe… her mom did look back sometimes. Fix things in her own peculiar way.

Maybe.

“Thanks, mom.”

\--

**Miona (12:09 pm):** hey

 **Miona (12:10 pm):** so… I watched your interview

 **Miona (12:10 pm):** can I call you?

\--

Jurina sat on her bed, staring at her phone.

She didn’t have time for this.

She had to be at the TV studio in 2 hours to start getting ready for the live show tonight. There was a script she had to memorize, cues she had to follow, a larger audience than she’d ever been in front of that she had to prepare to entertain. She had to keep moving.

But.

As soon as she saw Miona’s texts after her shower, she stopped.

Her biggest fault had always been that she cared too much; her biggest fault this season had been that she cared too much about one girl. Miona.

“Hey,” Jurina said as soon as the call went through. “Hope you don’t mind that I called you first.”

“Maybe I do,” Miona responded, her smile coming through her words. “Hang up, I want to call you back.”

“Really?”

“Really. Do it now.”

“I don’t have a lot of time, you know.”

“Okay.” And then the call ended.

Jurina stared at her phone in shock. Then laughed when she saw a new call coming in. From Miona.

“You hung up on me,” she complained, not caring at all in the slightest.

“And you picked up when I called you back. That’s good.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah.” The sound of rustling came through the speakers, almost like wind? “It means I still have some power over the almighty, theater superstar Jurina.”

“No one calls me that,” she scoffed.

“You should go on the Internet more,” Miona shot back. “From what I’ve seen in the ten minutes since I’ve been on break, you’re some kind of—theater god or something.”

“Shut up.”

“No, it’s real!” Miona’s laugh came through loud and clear even as her breathing picked up. Was she walking somewhere? “You pretty much saved the theater, apparently.”

“That wasn’t me, that was KeyBlade,” Jurina defended. “I had no idea about that sale.”

“Yeah, but you’re the reason they bought it. Well, for the most part. Hang on,” Miona huffed. A moment later, she was back, as if nothing had happened. “So, KeyBlade’s CEO got into theater last year after your whole winter show stunt, remember? You performed every night—”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, so that’s how he heard about SKE and the theaters. He got to talking with AKS about buying one, but then you went on hiatus. The first one, not this one.”

“Oh.” And maybe it did all came back to that, in the end. And maybe that was a good thing this time.

“So he held off, complained to the big guys about how they weren’t providing enough support for their cast and—get this,” Miona’s voice sounded excited in her rush to get her words out. “The deal fell through. It was dead until a couple weeks ago. Second hiatus now, that’s what brought him back.”

“What? How?”

“In his own words, he ‘thought that there was so much more AKS could be doing for the girls.’ He said there was no reason to let the talent suffer for their mismanagement. The hacking stuff only made him move faster to close the deal.”

“Holy shit.” Jurina was at a loss for words really.

“I know! His interview came out today, so—add that to what you said last night and a theater god was born.”

Jurina fell back on her bed, letting the crazy rollercoaster ride of the last few days wash over her. And it still wasn’t over yet. Unbelievable.

“So… if my girlfriend’s a theater god, does that make me a theater goddess? How does that work?”

Jurina smiled, shaking her head. “My mom and our managers had paps follow us and take pics. She said she’s called them off now, but who knows? Either way, that MioJuri stuff should die down now that all this is happening.”

Shuffling on the other end of the call, then a sudden silence. Then Miona’s voice was all she could hear. “Aww, I’m really going to miss all those nice pictures... Open your door.”

It took a moment for those words to register in Jurina’s head. “What?”

“Go to your front door right now. Open it.”

And then Miona hung up on her for the second time that day.

So why was she smiling so much?

\--

“It took me 6 minutes and 28 seconds to get here,” was the first thing that Miona said when she opened the door. “So, I think that means that I was right.”

Jurina could only stare back at the girl on her front steps.

“Nice pants,” Miona complimented.

She looked down at the bright orange and green sweatpants she’d thrown on after she got out of the shower. Paired with an SKE sweatshirt from 5 seasons ago, she was full-on rocking that theater girl look.

She loved it.

“You walked here from the theater?” Jurina asked.

“Yeah. Thought I’d stop by, see what my girlfriend was up to after she announced she got fired.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Dang it,” Miona smiled. “I think I overheard some of the girls planning a huge sendoff party on my way out. I should stop them.”

“Yeah, you should.”

“Alright. Let me just head back,” Miona turned on her heels. “I’ll be back in 12 minutes and 56 seconds because that’s how long it takes—”

“It does not take that long,” Jurina rolled her eyes as she stepped out onto the grass below, barefoot and all. She didn’t care. “You slowed down.”

“I followed my maps app the entire way, it also said 6 minutes—”

“Well, then you just need some more practice then. Plus that app’s dumb.” Jurina stepped closer, standing toe-to-boot now with the other girl. “It takes me less than 5, every time.”

“Every time?”

“Yep. Eleven years and I’ve never walked as slow as you did.”

Miona laughed, throwing her head back. “Of course you’d bring the eleven years thing into this!”

Jurina shrugged. “I’m just saying.” She loved the sound of that laugh.

“Alright, fine. So 5 minutes?”

“5 minutes.”

“And I can’t use my app? What if I get lost?”

Jurina shrugged again, feeling freer than she’s been in too long. “I guess I’ll just have to show you the way then.”

“You’ll show me?”

“If I have to.” Jurina turned to close her door, picking up a pair of shoes from inside. She sat down on the front step, slipping them on and tying them up.

When she was finished, she looked up at the girl who she cared about too much.

Miona looked back down at her with that same look she had the other day in her bedroom. Like she was just a subject to be examined. Like Miona had all the power in the world over her.

And Jurina wasn’t scared to hold her gaze this time.

“So no more pictures… no more MioJuri? Is that how it works?” Miona asked.

But she already knew the answer.

She just wanted to hear her say it.

“I mean, I am a performer,” Jurina confirmed. “I need an audience, a theater. Without that, I might get lost.”

“But you already have one.”

“Where?”

Miona stepped closer, boot-to-boot. She slowly raised her hand till she was pointing at Jurina’s head.

Jurina smiled, catching her finger, pulling her closer till she had to put her hands on her shoulders to stop herself from falling.

“You’re calling me crazy.”

“If my girlfriend’s crazy, what does that make me?” Miona challenged.

Jurina figured the only way to answer that was to give the audience what they’d been waiting for all along. What they’d both been working towards this whole time. The grand finale, so to speak—

Jurina pulled her face down so she could kiss her the way she’d wanted to for too long now.

And maybe they were smiling too much for it to really work, but that didn’t matter.

It was real. A kiss that would win awards on a few circuits. It was theirs.

Two stars crashing together—not to burn out, but to burn brighter.

That was the first time she kissed Miona Hori.

It definitely wouldn’t be the last.


End file.
